The Queen Of Hearts
by Jackyblu
Summary: It's Valentine's Day at PPTH and House isn't a happy boy. Wilson has a date and Cuddy is still with Lucas. But plans change and House is the center of everyone's attention today.
1. Chapter 1

**The Queen Of Hearts**

House Through The Looking Glass Series

(For the purpose of this story Valentine's Day falls on a Monday.)

House rolled over and opened his eyes. What was it that was so lousy about today? Oh, right. It was Valentine's Day. _God. _He slowly rose from the bed and ran his hands over his face. Normally this date didn't really bother him. Well maybe a little. He had just had a dream about he and Stacy having a picnic on a blanket in front of their fireplace. It had been very romantic and the sex was incredible. That was years ago now when they were younger and he was whole.

House shook off the memory and the dream that had been better than the memory could have been. In the dream Stacy had left her husband and returned to him and the infarction had never happened. He had never been hooked on Vicodin and he had never gone to Mayfield. He tried to recall what woke him. Then his leg reminded him. It was February and snowing in New Jersey. His leg hurt. House rubbed it and thought of taking a dip in Wilson's tub.

House limped to Wilson's room and heard the water running. Damn. Wilson was already in there. He would have to settle for a shower and that sucked because his leg really hurt this morning. House limped back to his room and pulled out a heating pad. He plugged it in and sat on the bed with the pad on his thigh and waited for it to heat up. Un-beckoned snatches of the dream returned to him like the memory of a bad accident. He tried to focus on something else. His latest patient was recovering. House had made a brilliant diagnosis of 'Little's Disease' a form of cerebral palsy. It was odd finding it in a patient in their forties. The case was solved however. There was nothing more for him to do now, nothing more to occupy his thoughts.

The pad was warming the muscle and the pain was subsiding. House reached for a bottle and took 800 mg of ibuprofen wishing again for the hundredth time they were Vicodin. He swallowed them and closed his eyes. He could hear Wilson in his bathroom now blowing dry his hair. He wondered if he would have time to sneak in and take a bath. Probably not since he was riding in with Wilson. Motorcycle, sore stiff leg and snow definitely did not mix well.

House kneaded the muscle and thought. He decided to skip the shower now and try to get a bath later tonight. Shouldn't be a problem. Wilson had a date damn him. Now House was stuck at home alone with the TV. The least he should get out of the evening is a bath. He thought for a moment about calling a 'personal masseuse' to come over. Maybe.

"House are you up?" Wilson's voice came from outside the door.

"Yeah."

"Hurry up or we'll be late to work."

"My leg hurts."

There was a beat before a "sorry" came through the door. It was followed by, "I'll make coffee."

"Okay."

The sound of footsteps retreating to the kitchen was heard.

House gritted his teeth and counted, one, two, and three. On three he got to his feet and stood for a moment. The heating pad had helped. He limped to his closet and grabbed a pair of jeans. He took a shirt off the hanger and got himself a T-shirt and a pair of socks.

Wilson filled the coffee carafe with water. He looked out the window at the snow. It had been quite a storm last night and the roads were a mess. He shook his head. House had to be miserable with his leg hurting combined with the cold. He poured the water into the machine and placed the carafe under it to catch the dark rich liquid. He wondered if his studded tires would be good enough on the roads. He was pouring the first two mugs when the plow went by.

House was tying his shoe when he heard a snow plow. Had the storm been that bad? He rubbed his leg again as the previous warmth was now gone. Hauling himself to his feet he grabbed his cane and followed the smell of coffee into the kitchen.

Wilson indicated the mug on the counter.

"How's the leg."

"Still attached, thank you."

House picked up the mug. "Any sugar in this?"

"No, sorry." Wilson handed House the sugar.

House added it. "You seem preoccupied."

"Just wondering if going out tonight is such a good idea. We have more snow coming."

"Great." He took a sip. "Don't you have a date tonight? I thought you and Nora had dinner plans."

"We do but the snow is bad and you're…"

"I don't need a sympathy date from you thanks."

"I wasn't offering."

"Good because you're not my type."

"Who is?" Wilson felt badly when he asked but it was a legitimate question.

"No one you'd know," came the biting reply. House didn't know why he had said that. Wilson knew everyone he knew.

"Anyway if the storm is bad we won't be able to leave the building. We may be lucky to get home tonight."

"We'll make it home and then you will have dinner here with Nora and I'll grab a cab to a strip bar somewhere."

Wilson winced. _Happy Valentine's Day House_, he thought. Instead he changed the subject.

"Let's try and get out of here and I'll buy you breakfast on the way."

"Fast food?"

"No pancakes at PJ's."

"Lead on McWilson."

They grabbed coats; scarves, gloves and House took his hat. He went out the door. Wilson set the alarm they purchased since Lucas had broken in so often to sabotage them. They made their way to the car and Wilson opened the passenger door so House could get in and off his leg. Wilson got in and started the car turning on the seat warmer and heater. It took a while but when the warmth came it was delicious.

They drove to PJ's the Princeton home of the best pancakes this side of the celestial plain. Nassau Street was cleared of snow and Wilson drove into the parking lot. House reached in the glove box and took out the handicap placard and hung it on the mirror. Wilson parked and House got carefully out of the car. It was slippery but he managed to reach the restaurant in an upright position. That was good. So were his chocolate chip pancakes. Wilson got the raspberry ones.

They left the restaurant and drove to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Since Wilson drove House he parked in House's parking spot and House again hung the placard on the mirror.

They both walked carefully from the car to the doors of the hospital. They stamped the snow from their shoes and entered into the warmth and chaos. The clinic was full and people who had slipped in the snow were waiting along with the runny noses and the flu sufferers. There were full beds in the ER and a tragic death due to hypothermia.

Cuddy looked up from a clinic file.

"Happy Valentine's Day. Grab a file and a tongue depressor."

Wilson said he would be right back as soon as he got out of his coat and rubber boots. House followed him away from the clinic.

"Doctor House!"

He stopped and Cuddy almost ran right into him.

"You shouldn't be following so close. Tailgating is illegal you know."

"Where are you going?"

"You heard Wilson. Got to get out of this coat and rubbers or get some. I'm not really sure what he said."

She gave him a tight-lipped look. I'll give you five minutes," she said.

"Five! For a cripple?"

"I'll send security with you."

"I may be able to do ten."

House wasn't aware that his hand began rubbing his leg.

Cuddy saw House rub his leg and noticed his eyes weren't focused on her. It wasn't a ploy. He really hurt.

"Ten then. See you back here at 9:20."

House refocused on her face and nodded. The pain in his leg had ramped up and he was miserable. When he turned to go he limped with more difficulty.

Cuddy watched him go and thought about the snow and cold and what this cost House. Yet here he was at the hospital and willing to work. He showed up. He always showed up. Now what he did while at the hospital was a bit more difficult to define. But he always showed up.

Cuddy shook her head and then moved on to the next patient.

House arrived at his office and was a little surprised to find Wilson waiting for him.

"Clinic duty?" He asked with a bit of sympathy in his voice.

"I have ten minutes in which to drop of my coat and return to the fray."

"Does she know?"

"Does she know…the price of tomatoes…the name of the Governor of Rhode Island… the medium price of a home in Iowa?"

"Does she know your leg hurts?"

"Well I suppose so being that it hurts everyday."

"That it hurts more than usual today?"

"I didn't share it with her."

Wilson studied House's face a moment. "Why? You could have got off clinic duty today."

"I don't want her feeling sorry for me. I don't want anyone feeling sorry for me."

"No one is going to make you feel like you're a cripple; except you of course. If you need help, ask."

"I don't need help and you're taking up the time I have to grab coffee before I have to report back."

Wilson held up his hands. "Okay, my bad. I know how dedicated you are to aiding those who suffer without a single thought for yourself."

House made for the conference room and coffee. Wilson put his hands on his hips and called after the retreating back.

"She's wearing the push-up bra today isn't she?"

"Oh yeah!" House answered.

"See you at the clinic."

"Coffee and drool cup in hand."

Wilson left the office and House went to pour himself coffee in his red mug.

He looked at the clock on the wall. It was 9:33 and he was 13 minutes late getting back to the clinic. He was also two hours into the ibuprofen he took. He had hoped for more pain relief than he was getting. What he wanted was a dip in the whirlpool. His next best answer was a massage or the heating pad again. Barring those three options he wanted Vicodin.

It disturbed him how often he wanted it. His detox at Mayfield from the addictive drug had been terrible. He sometimes dreamt of being locked in a room, tied to a bed screaming as the opiate left his body and the pain increased ten fold. Why would he ever want to experience that again?

House shook himself. He did not want to become addicted to anything ever again. It wasn't worth losing his mind or worth the brutal pain. He would try to get away to the physical therapy department and soak his leg in hot water.

House limped out of the room with his coffee in his left hand.

He arrived at the clinic.

"You're late," Cuddy said handing him a file that he trapped under his arm. Patient in room two has a headache.

House rolled his eyes,

"Do I have to Mom?" he whined at her.

"Yes you do. Room two Doctor House."

"Okay I'm going just turn around and look at me one more time." House begged.

"Yes I'm wearing the push-up and no the 'girls' don't need you today or any day."

"You used to be more fun before you started seeing Lucas."

"I am more fun. You just don't get to see it." She turned on her feet and walked away.

House enjoyed her retreating backside and then limped off for room two.

By lunchtime he had treated three cases of flu, four allergies, one rash, one chronic cough, one hypertension and a bite on the finger of a seven year old from a classmate. The mother didn't appreciate House giving her son the advice that he should have bit the kid back. _Parents, jeez._

House checked out and limped off to find Wilson. The pain in his leg made him hold up and lean against the wall. This pain was worse than this morning. This pain scared him. He could imagine the infarction. It couldn't have returned. He knew that but it frightened him anyway. The hallway was too public a place for his agony so he chose the most convenient place to go hide. Cuddy's office was empty and House dropped onto her sofa and massaged his thigh frantically.

_It's just a cramp. It's just a cramp._ He kept telling himself.

House worked the muscle kneading it and rubbing. He could feel how hard his heart was beating. As soon as he could get it manageable he was going to get into a whirlpool and the rest of the world could go on spinning without Gregory House for a while.

House needed something else to focus on. He looked around Cuddy's office and spotted a stuffed animal on the desk. It was a pink and red teddy bear. That was cute enough to make you sick. It must be for Rachel, House thought. No way would Lucas gives that to Cuddy. Then House spotted the usual heart-shaped box of chocolates on the desk. Nice. She will have a few and then work out extra hard at the gym and swear off candy forever.

House was just thinking that he would have sent flowers instead when the thigh cramped hard making his eyes water and his teeth clench. He lifted his leg onto the couch and rubbed if vigorously trying to warm it and increase the blood flow. The tears ran down his face. _God please make it stop_.

House raised his hand and rubbed it across his face to wipe away the tears. He was looking down when he saw it amber and white between the cushion and the back of the sofa. _What the hell?_

House reached down and pulled out a prescription bottle. It wasn't possible no one had found it. People sat on this couch all the time. He sat on it, as did Wilson and Cuddy herself. No one had dislodged it until this moment?

House flipped it over in his hand. The bottle had his name on it and there had to be fifteen pills left in it. House couldn't believe that just when the pain was the worst he had experienced in a very long time he would find a forgotten portion of his stash. He was both thrilled and terrified in equal measure. He held salvation in his hand, a salvation that would damn him to hell. He'd been to hell and had no desire to return. But this pain was its own hell.

For one of the few times in his life House was lost. He didn't know what to do. He needed the pain to recede but he needed his mind as well.

Cuddy came into her office and didn't notice him at first. She walked by him and went to her desk. She picked up the teddy bear and adjusted the ribbon around its neck. She set it on the desk and then turned quickly when she heard a soft moan.

"House!" She cried out startled.

"Here teacher."

Cuddy was ready to berate him and then toss him out of her office when she saw his red eyes and wet face. He was kneading his thigh and looking retched.

"House," she said again in a much softer tone.

"Still here," he answered quietly.

Cuddy went to him and sat on the coffee table. She knew everything with a glance. This wasn't the first time she had seen his eyes red and puffy, his face wet with tears. What she wanted to do was cradle his head in her arms. What she did was place a hand on top of the hand rubbing his thigh.

"How bad is it?" she asked him knowing the answer.

"The judges give it 9.5 out of 10." He tried to quip but it was hard.

"I can admit you."

House thought of that option. His pain could be monitored, controlled for a while. It sounded appealing.

The remaining muscle in his thigh cramped hard and House seized it with both hands. He let the amber bottle slip from his fingers to the floor at Cuddy's feet.

She picked it up.

He felt his stomach turn over. The pain was horrible. The guilt was worse as was the knowledge that he missed any opportunity to control the pain on his own.

He needed her.

"House."

She looked at him and her heart nearly broke. He was holding his leg and trying not to lose himself in the pain. She had no idea where he got the pills but she believed that he hadn't taken any. He was struggling but he hadn't succumbed to the temptation. He deserved her support not a chiding comment.

She looked into his eyes.

"Let me help you. I'll have you admitted. We'll work through this. I know you won't go back on the pills."

"I almost took them," he admitted. "I was so close."

"But you didn't. You held on,"

"Yeah that's me, strength of character. Too bad my character is Scooby-Doo. Ripe!"

He still had his self-deprecating humor. He wasn't about to surrender completely, not ever.

Cuddy got to her feet and walked to her desk. She made a quick call to admitting and requested a private room. She made a second call home. She spoke softly to the party on the other end.

"Can you stay with Rachel tonight? I'm going to be here fairly late. No, I'm not sure when I will be home. I know it is. This is important. Yes. It's House. He's in a lot of pain and I'm admitting him into the hospital. No. This is a critical time for him. He needs support from his friends. Yes Wilson is his best friend. He doesn't know about it. I know. Of course I do. We'll do it tomorrow. Please trust me. You too. Bye."

"That sounded like you were breaking a date."

"No. We were just…"

"…Going to have an intimate dinner at home. Then you were going to put on that new red teddy you bought."

"How did you know…?"

"I didn't. I was letting my imagination run wild. You look amazing by the way."

She smiled at him.

"It's a black teddy."

"Oh so close!" He closed his eyes. "Need to do a whole new image now."

Cuddy called Wilson. She knew House wouldn't like the next part where they took him to his room in a wheelchair in front of patients and colleagues. He had his pride and this was going to place it in tatters.

House wasn't aware that he was rocking back and forth as he rubbed his leg. It hurt so badly. If Cuddy hadn't picked up the bottle of Vicodin House was certain he would have taken a few. Maybe he could control it. Maybe he could have stopped after his leg was back to 'normal'.

Who was he lying to? His leg would never be 'normal'. Normal for him was about a six or seven on the pain scale. He was an addict. House was 'clean' of the drug but if he was honest with himself he still craved it every day. He was tempered by the memory of the excruciating detox he endured at Mayfield. The thought of reliving that experience terrified him straight.

Cuddy returned to the coffee table.

"Wilson will be here with a wheelchair."

"I didn't know he needed one. What a coincidence," House tried to snarl.

"Can you walk to the room?"

"Is there another alternative?"

"Not unless you can teleport yourself."

Wilson appeared outside in the lobby with the wheelchair.

"Your ride is here," Wilson announced.

House scowled. He needed the help but didn't want to be stared at. He could see no possibility of getting through the hospital to the room and keep his dignity.

"I'll walk," he said and managed to get to his feet.

The moment didn't last. He was back down on the couch in a heartbeat gritting his teeth.

Cuddy pursed her lips. Wilson brought the wheelchair closer.

"Don't be an ass. If you could walk you wouldn't be allowing yourself to be hospitalized."

House looked up.

"I love the way you both fuss over me so."

He had difficulty getting the words out between staggered breaths.

Wilson looked at House with warm brown eyes.

"You won't be embarrassed I promise. Trust me."

"I'll be stared at," he huffed.

"Yes but for reasons you will approve of."

"What?"

"Trust me," Wilson repeated with all the sincerity he reserved for his patients.

Cuddy smiled at House and spoke softly.

"What choice do you have?"

House looked around him.

"I was thinking that your office is comfortable. You'd need to move in a bed and a flat screen TV though."

"You can't hide in here forever."

"I can if you keep having food delivered."

Wilson smiled at this. "If you get in the chair and go to your room like a good boy I'll be sure that you get the best deli sandwiches in Princeton. I'll even have them bring you ice cream."

"Pistachio?"

"You hate pistachio."

"I know. Just checking to see if you remembered."

"In fifteen years do you think I've forgotten a single quirk?"

House would have answered but the leg was cramping fiercely again.

Wilson looked at Cuddy. "Can you help me get him into the chair?"

She nodded and took her place at House's left side while Wilson took the right. They gave him a minute to compose himself but it was so hard. He looked up at Cuddy.

"You're sure I can do this without the pills?"

"I'm positive."

"Well that's one of us."

Wilson looked at Cuddy questioningly. She gave him a signal with her eyes that said, 'later'.

House got a second wind as the cramp eased off a bit. He got to his feet with Cuddy and Wilson's help and hopped on his left foot until he could get into the chair. He looked up at Wilson.

"You promise I won't look like a helpless invalid as you wheel me through the halls?"

"Oh yes. The only person that will look stupid is me."

House nodded.

"I can live with that."

"Which room?" Wilson asked Cuddy.

"Four-fifty-two," she answered.

House looked at Cuddy with as much of a smile as he could master.

"One of the newly redecorated private rooms with the Ikea style furniture and the flat screen TV? Any chance I could have cable?"

"Yes if you're a good boy."

"Well my mother says I'm a boy and I am good!"

"Yes House, you're a legend in your own mind," she sniped.

House winced but if it were at the remark or due to his leg she would never know.

"Ready?" Wilson asked.

"Not really," House replied.

"You can do this. Just play along with me and hold on."

Wilson turned the wheelchair. Cuddy held the door open and Wilson maneuvered it out of her office.

The moment they were in the lobby House began to feel self-conscious. He tried not meeting anyone's eyes but couldn't close his ears to what people were saying.

"What happened to Dr. House?"

Wilson took over and announced in a loud voice, "I James Wilson have lost a bet to Dr. Greg House who is a god and this is my penance."

House smiled with his head lowered. He pulled himself up straight in the chair.

"Yes once again Dr. Wilson has doubted my superior powers and must make this sacrament to me because I am a…" House looked pointedly at Wilson.

"House is a god," Wilson answered dutifully.

"That's right. Never doubt me again."

Wilson lowered his eyes.

"I won't master."

House put a satisfied look on his face and used his cane to point ahead of him.

"Forward lackey."

Wilson pushed the wheelchair out of the lobby and down the hall toward the elevators. The witnesses of this little show giggled and talked among themselves about the scene they had just witnessed. Leave it to Drs. House and Wilson to enliven the day.

Cuddy was watching from her office. She smiled and shook her head.

_Those two_. She thought to herself.

She reflected on their friendship and shook her head again. Wilson would do almost anything for House. House would deny that he was as true a friend as Wilson. Many would agree except House stayed at Wilson's side when Wilson stupidly gave part of his liver to save one of his patients who never even called him by his correct name. House also delivered Wilson's paper on euthanasia that might have meant the end of his career.

If there was one inflexible rule at Princeton-Plainsboro it was House is House. He did what he did and seldom let emotion get in his way. He was brilliant and socially gauche and didn't give a damn either way. He never tried to be something he wasn't unless it was fun for him. He was an exceptional diagnostician and an asset to the hospital in that way. But he was also very aware of the fact and it gave him leverage. The worst thing about House was that he was almost always right.

She watched Wilson push the wheelchair up the hall. She thought that House looked like a king with his faithful servant. Wilson had found a way to keep the stares focused on himself and away from House. That was a good friend.

Cuddy walked out of her office she was stopped by Brenda.

"What bet did Dr. Wilson lose?" She asked her eyes as bright as her smile.

Cuddy thought fast.

"He bet Wilson that I was wearing a red bra and thong set for today."

_Yes, that sounded like a bet the boys would make._

"What did Dr. Wilson bet?"

"That is was pink. House won." Cuddy shrugged. "It was a present from Lucas." She smiled in that way that says, 'what are you going to do?'

Brenda nodded with the understanding women have about guys and their fantasies.

Cuddy walked up the hall toward the elevators.

When the elevator doors opened Wilson pushed the wheelchair to room 452. House was rubbing the thigh again. He was grateful to Wilson for saving him the humiliation of being gawked at. He really had enough on his plate at the moment.

Wilson got House inside the room. There was already a gown on the bed just waiting to wrap itself around House's tall frame. Wilson put the brakes on the chair to hold it steady.

"Do you need help getting up?"

Wilson knew the cripple's code. Always ask and never assume help is needed or wanted.

House just nodded once.

Wilson reached for House and secured him under the arms. He let House dictate how much help was needed. House struggled to his feet and Wilson got him to the edge of the bed which House sank onto quickly.

Wilson shut the door and pulled the blinds closed.

"Thanks," House muttered.

"No problem. Do you need help with the gown?"

"Just the shoes and pants."

Wilson nodded and as House removed his shirt, Wilson untied and removed his shoes and socks.

House only needed Wilson to steady him as he undid his jeans and got them down so he could step out of them. Wilson handed House the gown, which House put on. Then Wilson helped House into the bed.

House settled himself as comfortably as he could.

There was a soft knock at the door.

"Is he decent?" Cuddy's voice asked.

"No," House answered. "Get your bodacious bod in here and help me undress."

"He's in bed," Wilson called to her.

"Again a good reason for her to come in and make me feel all better."

The door slid open and Cuddy came in with a small cup in her hand.

House looked at her questioningly.

"Darvon and Flexeril," she said. She handed him the cup and poured him some water.

House looked at the pills.

"For a moment I thought you were going to give me something in the opiate family."

Cuddy shook her head.

"You don't want that."

House looked at her seriously. "Yes I do. You know that's the trouble."

Wilson looked between them, his eyes scrunched up.

House answered his unasked question.

"I nearly fell of the wagon today. Well jumped off actually."

"How? All your pills are gone."

"I found one more bottle I forgot about."

"Where? I thought we had gone through your home, office, car and your bike."

"The couch in Cuddy's office."

Wilson put his hands on his hips in exasperation.

"You hid Vicodin in your boss's couch?"

"It is the location of my biggest pain."

"Let me return the favor," Cuddy said filling a syringe. "This will help you sleep."

"How do I know you won't have your way with me?"

"I thought you were cured of the crazy delusions?"

"Nice," House replied rolling to his side to give her access to his hip.

She injected him.

"You'll be feeling it in a few minutes."

House looked at Wilson.

"Why is it that when a doctor becomes the patient the doctors treating him believe he has forgotten medicine?" He looked at Cuddy. "I know I'll be feeling it in a few minutes."

"Sorry. I was just doing my 'be reassuring to the patient' thing."

"Right. I forgot that you barely practice medicine anymore. Go ahead. What do you do now that you've given the injection and 'reassured' the patient?"

"I tell him to shut up and go to sleep."

House thought a moment.

"Yup. You do remember how it's done. Very good," he yawned.

Wilson gave Cuddy a half smile.

"That tranquilizer dart seems to be doing its job. The bear is going into hibernation."

"I knew that film on the Discovery channel was worth watching."

House was trying to come up with a snarky reply but he was too tired. He stuck his tongue out at her before sleep took him to a kinder place.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Queen Of Hearts**

By Jackyblu

Part Two

Cuddy was sitting in his room when House opened his eyes. He was still a bit groggy and wanted to go back to sleep. His leg hurt badly and it made him toss fitfully.

She was there and asked about the pain. House tried to focus.

"What are you doing here?" He croaked.

"House-sitting for Wilson. How's the pain?"

"Its bad," he admitted.

Cuddy nodded and rose from her chair. She called for more pain medication and returned to the side of the bed.

House clutched at the covers. Why was this time so bad? He thought again about another infarction in his leg. The idea was terrifying. If he had another would he lose his leg? He couldn't bear the thought and tried to push it from his mind.

House was panting but trying to think clearly. His body was begging for relief from the pain. His mind was trying to override it and remain logical. He was failing at the task. All he could think of was the cessation of the pain.

Cuddy saw that his face was wet with perspiration. The pain had to be terrible. She went into the bathroom and returned with a wet towel to wipe his face. She touched him gently. She couldn't reassure him that he would be all right. The truth was that she was concerned for him. What if it was another infarction? She would order him an MRI if he wanted it. Cuddy had learned not to order things for House. She had learned to let him decide for himself. It had been proven that he was his best doctor. She was merely assisting. This time his treatment was _his_ choice. If not for the 'middle ground' she had suggested to Stacy, he might not have been crippled.

She cursed herself once again for taking the 'safe' approach to his care. Why hadn't she listened to him? Why hadn't she trusted him to know what was best? Stacy hadn't. Cuddy had had misgivings about the way Stacy had taken over House's care. He had no way to debate it. No way to make his wishes known. She had commandeered his care using her proxy. Even now Cuddy regretted allowing it to happen. She suspected that deep down House still felt betrayed. She didn't blame him.

Was that why she had hired him when no other hospital would? No. He was a damn good doctor. The best. The skill House had at finding the cause of illness and affliction was legendary. Unfortunately so was his tactlessness, his indifference to the patient and their family and his practice of getting what he wanted no matter what.

Cuddy sighed inwardly. House was a pain in the ass, but he was also the reason Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital had such a high success rate. House received dozens of case requests a week. He took the most difficult and interesting ones, the ones that stood little chance of a cure and much of the time he was able to save those patients lucky enough to have him as their physician.

There were two mantras in this hospital. 'House is House' and 'House is _almost_ always right'. She had to insert the 'almost' into her thoughts. He was occasionally wrong. Okay, maybe not with a diagnosis, to be honest _never_ with a diagnosis. But he was wrong so often about people. He was accomplished with medicine. He had made it a fine art and he was the master of that art. But he was socially inept, clumsy and clopping. He knew it and didn't care. Probably something he learned at his father's knee.

House moaned softly. Cuddy went to the door of his room.

"Where the hell is that pain medication!" She hollered to a hapless nurse.

A tall young man with white blond hair hurried to the room his 'Crocs' slapping the floor as he hustled.

"About damn time," she hissed as she took the syringe from him and returned to the bed.

The young man left hoping the Dean of medicine wouldn't fire him. It was only his first week.

Cuddy injected the medication into the 'pick line' that was inserted into his arm.

"Help on its way," she said softly.

She looked at his face. His blue eyes stood out in contrast to his dull complexion. He was gray tinged with green. Hospital lighting never shows people the way they are. She had mused on the idea of rose lighting in the rooms. A silly thought. If she did that then patients would look better than they felt.

House coughed softly.

"Hey where are you?"

She returned to herself.

"I'm right here," she answered.

"I can see that. Where are you in your head? You looked distant."

"Just thinking about changing the lighting in the rooms."

"Well thanks for taking such an interest. Your minions have all wondered about the lighting in the hospital. I mean can't you find something a bit less harsh? This does nothing for my coloring," he snarked.

Cuddy once again thought he could read minds.

"Yes House I was thinking of changing to more theatrical lighting for you. Perhaps I should have installed 'bastard amber' in this room."

House smiled. There was the Cuddy he knew.

"Be sure to have a star placed on my door."

"Have your people call my people," she said with a smile. "How's the pain?"

"Reseeding," he answered looking a little more comfortable. "Any chance there was morphine in that syringe?"

"None at all."

"Figured," he answered resignedly.

"You're free of the opiates. Don't undo that effort."

House smirked.

"Effort? It was an effort all right, the worst kind of effort. The kind that was against my will." He looked at the ceiling.

Cuddy closed her eyes for a moment. Did every decision about his medical care have to happen against his will?

House was relaxing. The pain was easing and he was able to focus his thoughts. He was still in pain. He had tried to explain to others what taking pain medication was like for him. He had compared it to a very loud radio playing the worst possible song written. 'Season's In The Sun' was the title he usually picked. That song was so sweetly sentimental it made the enamel on his teeth rot. Anyway the song is blaring on a radio with no off switch. All you can do is turn down the volume. The music is still there, still annoying as hell but it is less noticeable. That's what the pain meds did for him. It turned down the volume.

He rubbed his face. The stubble on his jaw scratched his palms.

"What time is it?"

"Ten-thirty," Cuddy answered.

House looked at her sideways.

"Didn't you have a date tonight?"

"Yes. But I can reschedule it."

"It's still Valentine's Day isn't it? I didn't sleep for a few days did I?"

"No. It's still February 14th."

"And Lucas is okay with you being here instead of at home?"

"He's fine with it," she lied.

House continued to look askance at her. If Lucas was okay with this then he was a better person than House. Come to think of it, Lucas _was_ a better person than House but that didn't bother him because most people were.

He thought about why Cuddy would still be here with him instead of having dinner with her boyfriend and then moving on to bedroom calisthenics. House knew that Wilson had a date. Yes, Cuddy would stay to give Wilson a night off from worrying. But postponing a Valentine's date? Cuddy could have assigned a nurse or one of his team to watch over him. He was receiving more attention than the average patient.

"Why are you still here?"

Cuddy looked surprised.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No. I appreciate you need to protect the hospital's greatest asset."

"Well you got the 'ass' part right."

House opened his eyes wide arching his eyebrows.

"Zing! Was that cupid's arrow I feel?"

"Hardly," she said defensively.

House would have said something clever but the muscle in his thigh cramped again. He reached for it and started rubbing.

"Pain?" She asked looking startled.

"Cramp," he answered through gritted teeth.

"I'll order some muscle relaxant."

House nodded. His leg had vexed him before but not to this extent. He had experienced nothing like this since he had 'kicked' the vicodin. The thought wasn't a pleasant one. What if…? Again he tried to push the thought out of his mind. He would have Cuddy order an MRI and then he would be sure, but for right now the pain and cramping were the upper most items on his agenda.

This time the tall young man rushed in with the syringe. Cuddy took it from him without a word. He left feeling both grateful and disappointed that his quick action was under appreciated. He imagined it was something he had better get used to.

Cuddy injected the relaxant into the line in House's arm. He was still trying to rub his leg to ease the cramping but it was difficult for him to give an effective muscle massage.

Cuddy crossed the room to dispose of the syringe. She dropped it into the 'sharps' container. When she turned she saw House trying desperately to massage his thigh. She walked to the right side of the bed. Without a word she laid her hands on his thigh and began to knead the muscle.

House was surprised and very appreciative of the help. Cuddy was amazingly skilled at this. He wondered where she had learned her technique. He didn't care because for the here and now it was helping.

He looked at her questioningly.

"Thank you."

She didn't speak but kept manipulating the muscle.

"You could call a nurse to do that."

She remained silent while she worked. At last she felt the muscle loosen beneath her hands. She pushed the hair off her face and walked out of the room.

When she returned she had a blanket straight from the warmer. She laid the still folded blanket on his right thigh.

House sighed at the warmth and comfort to his leg.

She smiled. He was feeling much better and it was due to her help. That's all she had wanted she told herself, to help someone in pain. That was why she became a doctor wasn't it? She could have called a nurse. But this was House. He would have scared a nurse out of their wits or worse. She imagined that male nurse trying to deal with House. That struck her funny. She knew the kid was green and she had already scared him. Just imagine what a few moments with House would do to him. Well she reasoned he had better learn to swim in the deep end of the ocean. Here, there be dragons.

House was watching her. What was she thinking now? What was it that had made her smile? She was remarkable when she smiled. House liked everything about her, well not _everything_. He appreciated her looks; there was no getting around that fact. She walked in beauty like the night; hadn't Byron said something to that effect? That was Lisa Cuddy the woman.

Lisa Cuddy the doctor irritated House. She was all numbers and rules. House didn't hold store with either. In his mind you did what you had to do to achieve the goal. If he had to break those rules to save a patient then he had no qualms about doing so. That was the ultimate goal, to find the cause of the patient's illness and to cure it. How wasn't important. Finding the cause was. He wondered when Cuddy had forgotten that.

She was looking at him in a strange way. He couldn't put his finger on it, hopeful came to mind. Easy House, you're imagining things. He suddenly felt uncomfortable. Now would be the time to say something snappy.

"Feel free to get comfortable. I'd hate to think Lucas' Valentine's Day gift is going to waste. Was it the red push up bra and thong set?"

"You'll never know."

"I think I would have gotten you black with the red ribbons."

She crossed the room to the chair and moved clothes aside. She put a big fake frown on her face.

"Darn. I was expecting you to have hearts all over your boxers."

House leered at her.

"My pair with the kisses are in the wash."

She smirked.

"What does Wilson have?"

"Rumor has it puppies with big sad eyes."

"Cute."

House faked a shudder.

"I wouldn't know."

Cuddy laughed. He could always make her laugh. That was one thing she didn't get from Lucas. He was caring, insightful and great with Rachel but he didn't make her laugh. He also didn't challenge her intellect the way House did. Lucas just assumed she was the smartest person in the room and left the status quo. Too bad, she could do with some mental dancing.

She chided herself. Didn't she get enough of those tangos with House? She needed more than giggles and congas. She needed someone who would be there for her, someone who would be a father to Rachel. She needed stability. Lucas was stable. Maybe he was a little boring. That is what stability was…predictable, constant and solid. She was a mother for God sake! Now was not the time to indulge in selfishness and…

A thought occurred to her. It wasn't radical it was logical. Even House would see the value of it, but then again he might call her a moron and tell her that medicine isn't something she was good at.

"What would you say if I suggested an epidural?" She asked him tentatively.

She waited for the fallout. It didn't come.

House looked thoughtful.

"Anesthetize the nerves to my leg. There are risks."

"Yes. It requires the use of an opiate. You could become addicted again."

House waved it off.

"The risk is minimal. You can give me Suboxone to counter the effects, if any arise."

"That's addictive as well."

"But easier to detox from than Vicodin."

"True. But you might experience headache, dizziness, confusion…"

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Read the pamphlet."

"I'm just concerned," Cuddy commented defensively.

"Don't take a good idea and get it all icky with caring."

House considered further. It was a good idea. With the nerves anesthetized he would be able to have an MRI done. He would be able to think more clearly and decide what to do if the news was bad. He might have Cuddy use Ketamine as well. It bonded well with the opiate and maybe this time the positive effects would be permanent. Maybe…?

Cuddy saw the light in his eyes and was worried. Perhaps this was a bad idea. He had tried so hard to get off the Vicodin. His addiction had affected his mind. He hallucinated and made bad medical decisions. He had gone to Mayfield because he was genuinely scared. She had always suspected he had cravings for the opiates and that it must be a struggle for him at times like this when pain ruled his thoughts and actions.

House saw the clouded look on Cuddy's face.

"I can handle it," he said softly.

She brushed his cheek with her hand. It was just a little gesture. She didn't know why she did it. She did it without thinking.

What she did next shocked her even more.

He looked at her with those incredible eyes of his. She saw so many things in them, pain, fear, hope and need.

She leaned over and brushed his lips with hers.

He kissed her.

She kissed him more deeply.

He did as well.

Time stopped for both of them.


	3. Chapter 3

The Queen Of Hearts

Part Three

Why is it during the times we wish to be alone with our thoughts or deeds the world interferes? Why when the heart gets what it believes it most wants does reality enter too soon?

Cuddy's cell phone rang. She wanted to ignore it but she had duties and a daughter. She parted from House. His eyes opened. Did she see, regret?

Cuddy took the cell and exited the room sliding the door closed behind her.

Lucas was wondering when she would be home. He was trying to see if any of the evening could be salvaged. He would wait up for her. She told him not to. She would be home very late.

He asked how House was. Bad, she answered. He was still in a lot of pain. Lucas said he was sorry. House was a good guy. She laughed and asked if they were both talking about the same House. Lucas got quiet. She regretted what she had just said. If House was such an ass then why was she still here with him? She could tell by his silence that Lucas was wondering that as well. She backpedaled and agreed that House was sometimes a good guy.

This didn't help their conversation.

"Do you feel sorry for him?" Lucas asked.

Cuddy had to think how to respond. She took a fair amount of time thinking. What _was _the reason she had stayed?

"He's in a lot of pain and I'm responsible for it."

"You didn't cause the clot in his leg."

"I suggested the operation that gives him constant pain. I'm the reason he limps."

"You're the doctor who saved his life."

"I'm the doctor that changed it," she said.

She believed everything she said. If not for her House might not need a cane. But Lucas also had a point. If not for her House might have needed a pine box.

Lucas was quiet again.

She told him that she would get away as soon as House had fallen asleep again. She asked him to wait for her.

He told her he had a meeting with a client early in the morning

It was a nice excuse. It left her without blame. It was a very caring thing to do.

Cuddy hated herself.

She said she would be careful not to wake him when she got home. She suggested that tomorrow night would work just as well for their 'Valentine's Day date', except for the fact it would no longer be Valentine's Day. He agreed his voice sounding funny in her ear. She told him she would see him later. They hung up at the same time.

Cuddy slid open the door to the room. House was again rubbing his thigh.

"Am I in a clinical study because I think I got the placebo."

"Is it still hurting?"

"Only in the extreme," he grouched back to her.

"I can give you more Darvocet."

"You can give me an opiate. I won't tell anyone," he said squeezing his eyes shut.

"You run the risk of becoming addicted again."

"Raise your hands all those who think addiction is worse than feeling knives stabbing and twisting into your thigh," House looked around dramatically. "No one?"

Cuddy pursed her lips and silently watched him.

"I guess that means I should have the drugs", he hissed.

"Do you really want to go back to the way you were? You'll be addicted again."

"I DON'T CARE! I WANT THE DAMN DRUGS!"

She backed up. He had scared her with his outburst.

He saw her step back from the bed. He didn't want to drive her away. He softened his voice to a near whisper.

"Please help me."

There it was, the moment when House changed and broke her heart. He could always catch her off guard and make her feel for him.

Cuddy knew this was wrong. She couldn't be objective any more than he could. They both would make poor decisions as long as he was in pain. She had to do something to take the pain out of the equation.

The easiest fix would be to put him back to sleep. If he were sleeping she could go home and let someone else deal with him and his demands. She knew that was cowardly but in her best interest. But what about House's best interest?

She groaned inside. _I just kissed him. I've sat with him here. I can't just inject him and run home._ In her head she heard a devil with House's voice say quickly, _'Yes you can. Slip him a needle and scoot.'_

"House I'm trying to help you. If you give in to your addiction you may start hallucinating again. Do you really want to go back to Mayfield?"

"I can't take the pain," he said his eyes tearing.

"I can put you back to sleep," she said guiltily.

_That's right Lisa, do what's easiest for you._

He agreed providing he received an injection of Demerol.

Cuddy called the nurses station for the meds. She knew it was another addictive narcotic but told herself that he could have it cleansed from his system here at the hospital. They could bring him off it before it escalated into something he couldn't handle. It wasn't morphine. It wasn't vicodin. She felt terrible agreeing to it. She felt worse looking into his eyes.

When the syringes arrived she injected both into the PICC line and watched the medications disappear into the vein in his hand. House would be feeling the effects soon. The pain would ease and sleep would come.

"I'm ordering you an MRI for the morning," she said as she disposed of the syringes.

He nodded.

He looks nervous she thought. Why wouldn't he? He's been down this road before.

She asked him about adding Coumadin to his medications.

House nodded again. He asked her to order a PT/INR and if the levels of clotting warranted she could put him on the blood thinners.

He was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He wanted to look at her. He wanted to remember her lips on his. It was getting harder to hold the thought in his mind.

She came closer to the bed. He was drifting. He reached for her. She took his hand.

"Go to sleep House. Sleep and the pain will too."

He held her hand in his and let his thumb caress the back of it gently.

"Thank you," he breathed.

She smiled at him and against her better judgment she stroked his cheek.

House smiled slightly and fell asleep.

He opened his eyes. It was dark and the halls were very quiet. It must be very early in the morning he reasoned. His leg felt okay. There was still pain but it was lessened to a level he could deal with. He was thankful to an almost religious point.

There was the sound of even breathing in the chair near the bed. Not to surprising. His angel had been with him for hours after work. House couldn't see his savior well so he turned on the overhead reading light so as not to wake anyone. He just wanted to look at a caring face.

The light was brighter than he thought. The figure in the chair moved and House was looking at the sleepy face of James Wilson.

Cuddy was gone.

"Shift change?' House croaked at the younger man.

"Hmm? What…sorry. Did I wake you?'

"No," he answered quietly.

Wilson got to his feet.

"You need anything?"

Typical Wilson, all about the caring, House thought.

"I could use some water."

Wilson went around to the other side of the bed and checked the plastic pitcher. The ice was gone. He poured House a cup and handed it to him.

House took it and drank. God his mouth was dry. He finished the cup and handed it back to Wilson.

"What time is it?"

"Four-thirty seven."

"When did you get here?"

"About two."

House cocked an eye at him.

"Date didn't go well."

Wilson put the cup back on the bedside table.

"It went okay."

House needled him further.

"If it went 'okay' then why are you here?" And not Cuddy House thought.

"We had a lovely time and thought sex would spoil it."

"She dumped you."

"She didn't want to rush things."

"She dumped you."

"She thought that we should move slow."

"She d-u-m-p-e-d you."

"No she didn't."

"Did you kiss goodnight?"

"Yes."

"Mouth or cheek?"

"Cheek. It was sweet."

"She dumped you."

"Yeah. She thought I would make a great friend," Wilson said contritely.

"I hate when that happens."

Wilson gave House a surprised look.

"When in human history has any woman wanted to keep you as a friend."

"Cuddy." House said without meaning to.

Wilson nodded and changed the subject.

"How's the pain?"

"I can deal with it for now."

"Good. Your MRI is scheduled for seven-thirty. Why don't you try to get some more sleep?"

House agreed. He felt foggy in his mind. He wanted to go back into a comfortable sleep. He closed his eyes and his mind began to wander. He thought he was dreaming. He heard raised voices. He opened his right eye but saw nothing. Wilson was back in his chair. House decided he had heard something from outside his room. They should keep their voices down at the nurse's station. Patients were trying to sleep which is hard enough in a hospital.

He closed his eye and started drifting again.

"You had no right!"

"I know. I don't know what I was thinking."

"You weren't thinking! That's the trouble. What's he supposed to think?"

"Keep your voice down, he'll hear."

"He's out cold."

"I just wanted…"

The argument was ringing in House's ears. Who was it? Who had to shout outside his room? It was inconsiderate of them. He was just sleeping. He wasn't 'Coma Guy' for cripes sake.

"You kissed him?!"

"I didn't mean to. It just happened. He looked so helpless."

"God you're just like Cameron. He isn't a lost puppy. He's a grown man who happens to want to be with you!"

"I know."

"It was thoughtless and cruel. When he's well again, are you still going to want to kiss him?"

"Yes. That's the trouble,"

"Well figure it out! It's either Lucas or House. You can't have both damn it."

House was traveling along this heated conversation. It was as if he were standing in the hallway wrapped in the hospital gown his bare feet cold on the floor.

He could see Wilson with his hands on his hips reading Cuddy the riot act. Wilson defending him as only a real best friend could. And he saw Cuddy looking sorry and taking the abuse being heaped on her by Wilson. Her eyes were tearing, as she looked down, afraid to see the fire in Wilson's eyes.

House could see the nurses watching the drama from their station afraid to move for fear they'd be noticed and afraid that they might miss something worth seeing or hearing.

This would be all over the hospital come morning. The Dean of Medicine had kissed the head of the Diagnostic Medicine department. 'You mean that ass House?' 'Yes, she kissed him and the head of the Oncology Department yelled at her.'

House was sailing with his thoughts. He must have dreamed it. Wilson would never sound off to Cuddy like that. Not in such a public place. But to deny the argument was to deny the kiss. Now he was confused. Had that happened? Did he dream it? Worse, did he imagine it, again? House couldn't bare that idea. It had to have been real. To deny it was to admit he was losing his mind once more. The idea terrified him.

He felt something near his eyes. Something soft, He felt it at the corner of one eye and then the other. He had left the hallway and was once more in a hospital bed.

Wilson was unnerved when he saw it. Tears. House was crying. God, had the pain ramped up again? Wilson took a tissue and gently blotted the older man's eyes.

House was hooked up to a monitor as was typical when the patient was in loads of pain. Wilson checked heart rate and blood pressure. Both would be elevated if the pain were hideous. The levels looked good, as did the blood oxygen. Wilson relaxed. House must be dreaming. The eyes weren't shifting beneath the eyelids so he wasn't in REM.

"Where are you House?" Wilson asked quietly.

House couldn't say. He heard Wilson but he couldn't think how to answer. He was fighting sleep. H wanted to know if the scene in the hall had been real. He wanted to receive answers not give them. Sleep was pulling him. Sleep was trying to cheat him out of knowledge. He needed both. Sleep was cheating. Sleep was using the drugs he needed. He heard its siren song. House struggled against it. He had to ask Wilson. He had to know. He had to…

Sleep won.


	4. Chapter 4

The Queen Of Hearts

Chapter Four

Someone was patting his cheek and calling his name.

House opened his eyes. He had the full intension of telling whomever it was to 'drop dead'. Then he recalled he was in a hospital bed and it was quite possible he was the one who had 'dropped dead'. That was an unpleasant thought.

"What?" He asked grumpily.

It wasn't anyone he recognized. House looked around for Wilson. He wasn't there. Of course House thought, he had been foisted off on someone else now. Was he really that big a chore? Strike that. Did he need that much supervision? Yes, that was a much better question to ask.

"Why are you here?"

The guy was lowering the left bedrail.

"You have an MRI scheduled. I'm here to get you."

"Where's Dr. Wilson?"

"Went for a shower and to change clothes."

House acknowledged this news with a grunt and a nod.

Of course he did. What use is a rumpled Oncologist? Wilson went home to get freshened up for his patients and grab breakfast. House would have done the same wouldn't he? Nah. Rumpled suited him.

The gurney was brought round and placed on the left side of House's bed. House slid over onto it and eased his right leg over carefully.

The technician from Imaging was prepared to offer help if needed but wasn't going to volunteer. He had heard enough about Dr. House to know better. Plus he liked his hand attached to his wrist thank you very much. Rumor had it that this guy bites.

He waited until House was settled and covered him with a warm cotton blanket. This one had a small hole in it. He knew cotton blankets could be bleached and disinfected and were very hygienic but still you'd think someone would complain that they weren't very warm. But of course that's what a blanket warmer is for.

House was still groggy. He hated being forced from his warm bed and onto a cold gurney. He hated that he was going for his MRI so early in the morning. He hated finding out the results.

He hated the idea that he was alone.

The tech rolled the gurney out of the room and down the hall. Now House was on display. He closed his eyes. He didn't want people to stare. Plus he was getting nauseous. Lying back looking at the ceiling go by did nothing for his stomach. By the time they arrived in Imaging he thought he must have looked green. He certainly felt it. He tried to sit up but between the nausea and his cramping leg all he could manage was to roll to his side.

He vomited. God knows he hadn't wanted to but did all the same. The tech had stepped quickly away and avoided getting any of it on his Sketchers. House could appreciate the fine footwork. House hated getting sick like this. He was embarrassed and as he hadn't eaten anything recently he had stomach bile taste in his mouth. That was enough to make him retch again.

"Are you going to be sick again?"

House managed to say yes.

The tech handed him a container the size of a hotel ice bucket.

House held it up to his mouth and spat into it. He waited. His stomach was settling and he thought he would be okay for the moment.

The tech took back the bucket and asked if House could move over onto the table.

House said yes and the tech waited for him to get unsteadily to his feet. House couldn't put any weight on the right leg so he hopped over and sat on the table. Hopping had been a bad idea. The nausea was rising again. He motioned for the bucket and the tech handed it to him. Nothing came up. House was grateful as his stomach settled again.

"I want Phenergan," House said.

The tech nodded. "I'll make sure they know."

Satisfied he wasn't going to be sick again, House handed back the bucket. He carefully raised his right leg onto the table and slowly lied back.

He would know soon.

The table was moved so that House was inside the MRI machine from the knees up. This wasn't the first time he had an MRI done of his thigh. The last time Wilson had done it for him He had made House laugh speaking through the microphone and saying he was the voice of God.

House wished Wilson were there now. He could use a laugh. Right now nothing seemed very funny.

The door to the Imaging room opened and closed. From the inside of the MRI House couldn't see who had opened the door. He didn't know if that person had just poked their head in to see if the room was in use or if they had stayed.

The door opened again. In a beat or two it closed. Then the process was repeated.

House was a little unhappy. This wasn't a zoo. He wasn't on display for all to see. He adjusted his gown for modesty sake, just in case. Did everyone in the hospital have to know about his business?

"Are you ready?" The tech asked.

"No, but have at it," House replied.

"You'll do fine," said a second voice.

Wilson. He made it back in time for the MRI, loyal, supportive, and concerned Wilson.

"You're late."

"Stopped to get you some pancakes."

"You're kidding."

"Yes. Now shut up and let's get this over with."

House smiled. He should have known that Wilson would not let him go through this alone. It wasn't in Wilson's nature to let someone down.

He let out a breath. House didn't realize he was so anxious. Wilson being there made him feel better. He couldn't say why. He still had the MRI and the results to get through.

The machine began roaring as it came to life. Did every patient that ever had an MRI liken it to being placed in a dryer? House could see their point.

The minutes ticked by and House felt himself getting restless. Why wasn't this over yet? Hadn't he been in here at least thirty minutes? Okay maybe it was closer to twenty. Maybe less. It was hard to be objective when your future was in the offing.

The sound was winding down. It was over. House waited to hear Wilson's voice telling him what was or wasn't seen.

It was very quiet.

That was a bad sign.

The table moved and House emerged from the machine.

He looked up into the face of James Wilson.

House could feel his stomach tighten. He held his breath.

Wilson smiled.

There was nothing to be seen.

House let out his breath in a small chuckle as relief poured through him. He didn't have a new infarction. He wouldn't lose his leg.

The gurney was brought back to the side of the table and House sat up. He eased his right leg over and followed it with his left. He began to stand but the right leg buckled.

Wilson was there. He caught House.

That's right, House thought. No infarction but still in pain. Now what was causing it?

Wilson went from smiling best friend to worried best friend smoothly. The smile had slipped into round-eyed concern, then to frowning puzzlement. What was causing House's leg to cramp this badly?

House laid back and the tech covered him with the blanket. He waited for Wilson to open the door.

The sound reminded House that he had heard Wilson come in. House also recalled hearing the door open and close twice more. Who…?

House was returned to his room. He was sick again almost immediately.

Wilson wasted no time getting the Phenergan for the motion sickness and injected it into House's hip.

Cuddy hurried down the hallway. She wanted to get back to her office without being seen by anybody who would make gossip fodder of it. Wilson knew of course. He had been there when she opened the door to Imaging. She hadn't seen him in the control booth until she was all the way inside the room. She was there for House.

It was really stupid of her. Wilson would never have let House go through it alone any more than she would have. Seeing that Wilson was there gave Cuddy permission to leave. House didn't need to be fawned over. He did need a friend to reassure him and share the news good or bad.

Cuddy entered her office. She would hear from Wilson if it were bad news. She hoped he would tell her if it was good news but assumed the adage 'no news was good news' still applied.

She sat behind her desk and brought her schedule up on her computer. She had a couple of meetings with insurance reps, a budget report to finalize and a meeting of her department heads.

Minus one she thought ruefully. Then she smiled. Since when had he ever tried to be at one of her meetings? Well at least this time House had a good excuse. Today she would not only dismiss him but the Head of Oncology too if need be.

She sighed. God she was such a coward. She had nearly run from Imaging so Wilson wouldn't confront her. She didn't want people to see her there. There were already rumors about her and House. She also didn't want to see him. What would she say to him? 'Sorry, it was all a mistake.'

She shook her head. She couldn't tell him that.

_Then what would she say? _

Last night was impulsive. Cuddy didn't do things impulsively.

Then why had she kissed him? Was it simply that she felt sorry for House? What an awful thought. If that were the whole reason then he would never forgive her. Truth be told she wasn't sure she could forgive herself.

Cuddy stretched. It had been a difficult night followed by an early morning.

She had arrived home somewhere around two-thirty in the morning. Wilson had taken over watching House. They had argued. Why had she told him she kissed House? She knew he wouldn't absolve her of such a sin. She knew he would be shocked and angry. What had she expected? House couldn't defend himself so Wilson did it for him. Cuddy wondered what it must be like to have a friendship that strong. Cuddy had acquaintances. Real friendship required time. Having a job like hers and a child left her with no time for a commitment like that.

By the time she got home she was exhausted. The house was dark and quiet. She slipped off her shoes. Seventeen hours in the same pointy-toed designer footwear would give anyone achy feet. Maybe she would wear flats tomorrow. She smiled at herself. Who was she kidding?

She curled and uncurled her toes on the carpet before walking into the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She returned via the dinning room.

There it was on the table, a huge bouquet of roses in a beautiful vase.

Cuddy switched on the light to get a better look at it. There was a card of course. Not opening it would have been callous, safe but spineless. Cuddy opened the envelope. She looked at the picture of an old fashioned heart with lace and flowers. She read the verse and opened it. Inside was just as precious. Just as sweet and loving. Lucas had signed it and included one thing more, 'always and forever'.

She set the card down and leaned over the roses to smell them. They smelled every bit as wonderful as they looked. Roses. She was such a fool.

She sat down at the table and reread the card.

Lucas was the one she wanted. He was great with Rachel. He was thoughtful, caring and stable. Lucas was a very solid young man. He was everything that House wasn't.

House didn't like kids. House was seldom thoughtful. House didn't care.

House was NOT stable.

No he wasn't, especially now. House couldn't stand on his own two feet. Was that her fault?

Cuddy took a sip of water and considered. She offered herself the same points Lucas had.

The infarction was not her fault. She had saved his life by offering a third option to Stacy.

Those two points of view were drowned out by a small petulant voice telling her House could have been right. That the three days he went through with the blockage in his thigh were due to doctors in _her_ hospital dismissing his pain. House hadn't started out being addicted to pain medication. Being a cripple in chronic pain had done that. Her fault.

So was that it? She simply felt guilty? No, she also felt sorry for him.

That was exactly what House didn't want or need. It also wasn't entirely true.

She didn't feel sorry for him in college. He was brilliant and sexy and a damn good time. They had a fantastic evening and the next day he was expelled. He hadn't called. He just vanished leaving Cuddy feeling…

How did she feel? Was she angry with him? Hurt? Disappointed?

Disappointed. That's how she felt. She had been carefully watching him, trying to be in the same places he was. She audited a class just to be near him. Finally he was with her only to disappear the next day. Sometimes life wasn't fair.

And sometimes life was capricious. After all those years he limped back into her life, lover in tow, suffering from an infarction in his leg. By the time she took on his case personally it was too late. The muscle had died and he was in danger of going the same way.

Fast forward to last night.

House was in agony, scared and alone.

And she kissed him.

She had thrown all of her carefully considered arguments out of the window and had done what her heart had desired.

Cuddy stopped herself.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

_I did what my heart desired._

This wasn't a carefully considered point of view. This was all emotion. This was exactly the wrong way to approach a relationship. She was mature, had a position of authority and she was a mother now. She had to look at things from different perspectives. She couldn't just do things on a whim. It wasn't right. Add to that the fact that she was his boss! How could they have a relationship and still work together? She couldn't just ignore that.

_And it isn't fair to him._

She took another sip of water. When did her mouth become so dry?

House. She could hear Wilson in her head. He brought up every point she was now thinking.

What must House have thought? How was he going to deal with what she had done? Was he expecting more from her now?

Cuddy rubbed her eyes. They itched with tiredness. She looked at her watch, three-thirty seven. She needed sleep. She rose from the chair and walked to the bathroom. She got undressed and put on the negligee she wore the night before, put her clothes in the hamper and walked softly into the bedroom.

Lucas was sleeping deeply. Cuddy pulled back the covers and slipped into bed without disturbing him.

When Lucas opened his eyes the next morning he heard the soft click of the bedroom door. In a few minutes he heard another door clicking. A few minutes after that the start of a car's engine followed. He lay in bed and looked up at the ceiling. He was confused and a bit hurt. Rachel's cries disturbed his bemused thoughts.

"I'm coming."

He got out of bed, put his robe on over his pajama pants and tee shirt and went to check on the little girl.

Cuddy drove to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital cursing herself.

In his room House was feeling less nauseous, a good thing in his opinion. He didn't know what caused the painful cramping. That was a negative thing. Nothing seen on the MRI gave him no new information. Not too helpful. But there wasn't a new infarction in his thigh, a very good thing!

He looked at Wilson.

"What did you have for breakfast?'

Wilson looked up distracted.

"What?"

"When you went home and got all freshened up. Didn't you grab some breakfast?"

"I haven't been home."

House was surprised.

"If you didn't go home…?"

He should have guessed. Wilson had showered at the hospital. He hadn't left his side for more than an hour at best. There it was again, the testament to their friendship. Just as surely as House was there for Wilson's liver lobe operation, Wilson would have stayed with House through the night and been there for the MRI that morning.

"You hungry?" Wilson asked.

House considered the question. Now that he wasn't queasy food was easier to consider.

"Think you could find me some pancakes?"

Wilson smiled.

"What kind of syrup do you want?"

"I get a choice? Thought the cafeteria only had maple or something approximating it."

"They do. I thought I'd get you some at PJ's."

House smiled blissfully. "Marry me."

"Uh uh. I already asked you. I also provided a ring."

"So you did. The answer is yes."

"Too late. I took the ring back. You can't trifle with my feelings you know."

"Too bad," House sighed. "I'm quite a catch."

House shifted his weight on the bed. His leg felt better and this puzzled him. He hadn't received any more pain medication but there was no doubt the thigh wasn't cramping. Put that in the 'good things' column.

"You didn't say what kind of syrup you wanted."

House thought. "I guess it depends on what kind of pancakes you're getting me."

"How about the banana nut?"

That sounded good to House. "Would you have them add chocolate chips?"

"Are you going to have a tantrum if I don't?"

"Probably," House admitted.

"Okay with chocolate chips."

"Topped with whipped cream."

"Are you the same guy who was tossing his cookies just twenty minutes ago?"

"Yes and you're the doctor who made me all better."

"So you're ready to tempt fate?"

"I'm hungry if that is what you're asking."

Wilson grinned and shook his head.

"Don't blame me if you get a tummy ache." He started to leave.

"Ask for some chocolate sauce on the side."

"The capacity your system has for junk still amazes me."

"Nice to know I can still surprise you after all these years honey."

"Be right back," Wilson said as he left the room.

House was left alone with his thoughts. He had several of them.

Why was his leg feeling better? He wasn't complaining mind you, just curious. Also was it going to last?

Then there was the matter of a kiss he may or may not have received from Cuddy. Did it happen or not and if it did where _was_ Cuddy? Was she avoiding him?

Finally there was the question of what to do if the leg got bad again. Should he have the epidural Cuddy suggested? For the moment he could table that debate. He might not need to concern himself with it. He hoped.

He felt a little sleepy. That was the Phenergan at work. He didn't want to go back to sleep so he concentrated on the questions in his mind.

He didn't have enough information about his leg. He knew it hurt all day yesterday. It had certainly hurt when he had tried to get from the MRI table to the gurney. But now it felt as close to normal as it ever got. Maybe the near fall had caused something to loosen? A muscle relaxed and freed him from pain? The MRI had been clear. Maybe it was relief upon hearing the news.

That was medicine. Sometimes things just got better for no reason. Just like sometimes things went badly in spite of everything a doctor does. If you couldn't accept that then get out of the kitchen.

Okay, he couldn't accept that. Well it was his leg after all. He did have a vested interest. So why, Dr. House, was your patient's leg feeling better?

Just because a clot didn't appear on the MRI didn't mean it wasn't there to begin with.

Okay that was a sound premise. He could start with that.

His musing was interrupted by the arrival of a phlebotomist. Right, he had requested a PT/INR to check the clotting quality of his blood. He let her clean the tip of his middle finger with an alcohol wipe. She pricked the finger and took a drop of blood, which she placed on a hand held device similar to a diabetic blood meter. The waiting began.

The meter finished with a beeping signal. And the winner was…

One point five; his blood was too thick. He would need to be on the Coumadin Cuddy had suggested.

The blood clot theory was back on the table. His blood had never been too thick before. He blamed Wilson for making him eat all those 'healthy' vegetables. See, 'good' wasn't good for him. 'Told ya so.'

He settled back more comfortably on the pillow.

Taking the Coumadin would thin his blood back to a therapeutic level and treat any blood clots. Problem solved. He could move on to other topics. There was no longer a mystery to be solved regarding his leg.

His mind jumped to the next big issue.

Was he kissed?

House scratched his cheek. He stopped, then brushed his hand over the place he had just scratched. It brought back the ghost of a memory. It had meaning, significance.

He closed his eyes and repeated the gesture.

In his mind he pictured someone stroking his cheek. He was in terrible pain and someone was gently touching his face. Then he saw her. Cuddy was there by his side. She passed her hand gently over his cheek. He was falling asleep. She had just given him Demerol and he was grateful. She touched him.

It had been real. He was certain of it. He hadn't been asleep. He was groggy and beginning to doze but he was still conscious of the action. The kiss was real too. He hadn't dreamt it. He wasn't sleeping. He wasn't drugged. He was awake at the time. He was in horrible pain but he had been awake.

House ran his index finger over his lips. He closed his eyes. He remembered the whisper of a touch on his lips. He had returned the gentle pressure and then gained access to her mouth. She had rewarded that deed with a more significant act of her own. Then something made her leave him.

The ring of a cell phone filled his mind's ear. She had a call and took it outside his room. When she returned his leg was killing him almost literally.

That's what drove it from his mind. The pain was excruciating and all he was able to focus on was stopping it. A kiss can mean very little when you're afraid of dying. The whole 'kiss for a dying man' thing in movies was a fairy tale. If you're going to give a meaningful kiss do it when a guy's healthy. Waiting till he's suffering, scared and full of drugs isn't fair at all.

Then it hit him with the force of a truck.

It wasn't meant to be fair. It was meant as a gesture from someone who felt sorry for him.

House hurt. It wasn't his leg that besieged him. It was the memory of a kiss without meaning. He felt stupid and betrayed. Hadn't he learned anything from Cameron's attention to him? Did he really think so highly of himself to believe a beautiful woman would just fall into his arms?

House's ego took a direct hit.

_I'm fifty, graying, crippled and slightly crazy. I want my own way and I'm not too worried who I step on to get it. _

She's beautiful, younger than me, intelligent usually, and has a kid. What do I have to offer her?

House was still brooding when Wilson returned with breakfast.

House ate none of it.

Wilson couldn't help but notice. After all he had gone to PJ's in the snow to get those pancakes.

"Stomach bothering you again?"

House looked out the window.

"No. Just not as hungry as I thought. I need to take Coumadin," he added watching the snowfall.

Wilson moved the container of pancakes off the bedside table.

"What's the level?"

"One point five."

"Too thick. You're thinking blood clot?"

"Seems the most likely suspect."

"You seem better."

"It doesn't hurt like it did when I went for the MRI."

"That's a good thing isn't it? I'll order you the Coumadin."

House turned his attention back to Wilson. He was speaking of his medical issues while focusing on the emotional ones.

"Have you seen Cuddy this morning?"

Wilson picked up House's water pitcher.

"You're out of ice. I'll get you some fresh water too."

"You haven't seen her."

Wilson put down the pitcher. "Not since last night."

"You yelled at her."

"You heard?"

"Yes."

"I thought you were sleeping."

"So did I."

"I'm sorry we woke you."

"So am I," House answered sincerely.

Wilson let out a sigh. He had hoped that House would never find out about the dressing down he gave Cuddy in the hall. This was the last thing House needed.

No matter how rough and tough House appeared to others there was an emotional being inside, someone who could be hurt, someone who had been hurt far too often.

Wilson didn't feel sorry for House. He felt friendship for him. He genuinely liked the guy. Oh yes, Wilson knew House was a jerk. He was also self-serving and a pain in the ass, but who wasn't? House was also the best time Wilson had ever had in his life. With House life was never dull. With House you had permission to be a self-serving, pain in the ass jerk too. That was something to be applauded in a friend and roommate. What was wrong with that?

"House…"

"I know. She kissed me and it didn't mean a thing. You were trying to protect me. Thanks but I'm not eight."

"I know you don't need protecting. I just thought she'd crossed a line."

House nodded once. He didn't really want to go any deeper into the event. It was done and over. Time to move on to other less personal and painful things.

"So those hot cakes still hot?"

Wilson smiled.

"I doubt it."

Wilson opened the container and looked inside.

"They're lukewarm and the whipped cream has melted. Well at least we know they use the real stuff."

"Chocolate syrup on the side?"

"Of course."

"Give 'em here."

Wilson moved the bedside table over House's lap and handed him the foam container and a bag holding a plastic knife and fork wrapped in a couple of napkins.

"I could get those warmed up for you," Wilson offered.

House was already opening the container and starting to put chocolate syrup on the food.

"…Or not," Wilson said chuckling.

House was placing the first forkful in his mouth. Wilson pulled up a chair and balanced a similar foam container on his knee.

"What did you get?" House managed to utter through a mouth full of spongy goodness.

"Blueberry and swallow before you speak again. God, smells like an explosion at the Hershey's factory."

"I hope that isn't a euphemism for having my bedpan changed."

"No and yuck!"

"It's okay," House said taking another bite that had a chunk of banana in it. "I'm not on one."

Wilson was ready to set his breakfast aside. He eyed House suspiciously.

"You're trying to gross me out aren't you? You are casting covetous looks at my pancakes."

"Am not. Besides coveting is a sin," House said stuffing his mouth with another bite.

"So is lying, which you are guilty of," Wilson retorted toying with a blueberry.

"Yes but I don't… No, wait I do that one…and that one…and I've done that."

"Well?"

"There's only ten right?"

"From what I've read, yeah."

House wrinkled his brow thinking hard.

"I haven't made any graven images."

"Congratulations."

"We all have our standards." House replied shrugging.

He finished off his breakfast and ended up with part of Wilson's too.


	5. Chapter 5

The Queen Of Hearts

Chapter Five

Cuddy set the report aside. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Someday soon she would need glasses to see the numbers on these finance reports. She thought of herself in a pair of readers like House wore. That just wasn't the image she had of herself. Maybe contacts.

She checked her desk clock. Was it really 11:30! Where had the morning gone? She thought about calling home to check on Rachel. She then thought of Lucas and the way she had snuck out of the house without a word to him. She felt almost dirty. That was an odd thing to think. Why had that image come to her mind?

_I didn't sleep with him and sneak out leaving money on the dresser. _She exhaled a small chuckle. _No Lisa you snuck into bed and then snuck out without waking him or kissing your daughter._

Now she did feel terrible. She wanted to avoid any discomfort with Lucas so she slipped out early. It was cowardly.

She had also slipped out of the MRI room without a word to Wilson. He saw her and she thought she saw a warning in his eyes. That had sent her back out the door. Wilson was not one to take friendship lightly. If House couldn't do it himself then Wilson would do the fighting for him.

Cuddy stood up from behind her desk. She had missed breakfast and was beginning to feel lightheaded. She thought of the energy bar in her desk but a salad sounded better. She got money from her purse and left her office.

She was wearing a rose top with a rounded neckline that showed her 'girls' to their best advantage, as House would say. She paired it with a gray straight skirt that hugged her hips and a wide black belt. She knew that she drew stares from men as she passed. She also knew most of them would never suspect that she was in charge of this entire hospital. The thought made her smirk slightly.

She passed the elevator on the way to the cafeteria. She hesitated. House was on the fourth floor. She could stop by the nurse's station and check on him. Just checking up on one of her staff, nothing to be read into it. It was natural for a boss to be concerned if one of her employees was ill.

Cuddy waited for the elevator doors to open. She entered and pressed four then stood back against the wall. The doors closed and the elevator began its assent.

While the elevator rose she thought of what she was going to say.

Hi, ' name of nurse to be determined', I was checking on Dr. House to make sure he had everything he needed. Has the MRI been done? I'd like to see the report please. Yes I'm sure he's a handful. Yes I'll take your complaint. No you may not put laxative in his soup.

That was pretty much the way the conversation would go she decided.

The doors opened on the fourth floor and Cuddy stepped out. She walked around the corner and saw Wilson coming out of House's room. Had he been there all morning?

She ducked back around the corner disgusted with herself. What kind of coward was she? She stayed near the elevators hoping that Wilson would take the stairs. She pressed the elevator button thinking that she could go back in but it was too late. The car was already gone. She waited a few more moments before checking around the corner.

Wilson was standing at the nurse's station talking with a pretty young brunet in scrubs with flowers. At least Cuddy thought they were flowers, from this distance they could have been stars for all she knew. Wilson thanked the woman and turned to walk down the hall toward the stairs.

Cuddy let out her breath. She didn't want to hear again how kissing House had been a stupid impulsive act that would only bring him pain. Wilson had cautioned Cuddy not to do this to House. Don't build up his hopes and then drop him. House could no longer fall and not be injured.

Wilson wasn't mistaken. Cuddy knew what she had done was wrong.

Then why had it felt so right?

She cared about House. She had in college and she did all these years later. She respected his knowledge. She thought he was powerful but still a boy inside. Not that he was childish…okay he was much of the time, but there was something about his sense of fun. He made her mad some of the time. Secretly she resented the fact that he could play tricks and do goofy things and she had to be the adult in the equation. There were times when she would give as good as she got from him, but that couldn't be the status quo. Damn.

She composed herself and walked around the corner toward the nurse's station. The brunet had spotted her. The girl was shuffling through some files. Cuddy wondered what she was looking for.

When she arrived at the desk the nurse was handing her a file. It was House's. Cuddy was a bit startled but smiled and thanked her. Kittens. That's what was on her scrub top. She smiled a little wider thinking what House would say. Kittens were very close to puppies. Way too cutesy for the fourth floor. In the pediatric wing kittens would be a big hit. She looked for a nametag. Melissa it said. Of course! It was a cute name for a cute gal in cuter scrubs. Cuddy thought about saying something but changed her mind. A few minutes with House and Melissa would burn that top in her fireplace tonight.

Cuddy noted the MRI was negative. She assumed it would be since she hadn't heard from Wilson. She saw the result of the PT/INR. The level one point five meant that House might have a clot that had moved. She saw that Wilson had ordered Coumadin.

"How is Dr. House's pain?" She asked the kitten lover.

"Dr. Wilson said he is feeling much better. He had breakfast this morning."

Cuddy nodded and saw that House had been given Phenergan for nausea also prescribed by Wilson.

"He ate this morning?" Cuddy asked surprised.

The nurse giggled. "He had chocolate chip and banana pancakes." She giggled again.

Cuddy lost her smile and acted busy looking over the chart. Giggling and kitten scrubs should never be around adults and House in particular. Cuddy had also noted that the young woman's breasts jiggled when she laughed. No bra. No wonder Wilson was hanging around the desk.

Cuddy crooked her finger at her and spoke softly so only she could hear.

"Melissa we wear undergarments at this hospital. Jiggly body parts can be a distraction to some of the doctors. And I would rethink the cute scrubs for something a bit more adult."

Melissa was crestfallen.

And Cuddy felt like a shrew.

She handed back the file and smiled warmly.

"Please let me know if there's a change in his condition."

She thought she should say something supportive.

"Dr. House can be gruff and a bit intimidating. Don't let him scare you. His bark is usually…well his bite and bark is really the same. Just remember if he gets on your nerves you can threaten him with a catheter." She winked. "I'll send up some help if you need it."

Melissa almost giggled but mastered herself and smiled instead.

Cuddy turned and started back down the hall toward the elevators.

At the other end of the hall Dr. James Wilson came from the stairs. He had forgotten his briefcase in House's room. From his end of the hall he saw a retreating silhouette that looked familiar. It turned the corner and out of sight.

Wilson went to the desk and asked Melissa if that was Dr. Cuddy. He was told yes by the now composed young woman holding a file in front of her chest.

"Did she go into Dr. House's room?"

"No doctor. She looked over the chart and asked how he was feeling."

"And she didn't go to see him for herself?"

"No. She just read the file and then she left."

"Okay," Wilson answered looking perplexed. "Thanks."

He went back to House's room and retrieved the briefcase. The TV was on. House was snoring. The Phenergan combined with a full stomach had sent House back to sleep.

Wilson left quietly. He would check on House a bit later.

He walked down the hall toward the stairs and wondered about Cuddy's behavior. Why check on House and not see him? Wilson wondered is she was trying to avoid him. That would make sense, he had been very angry at her last night. She might be afraid of a repeat performance from him.

By the time Wilson was walking down the third flight of stairs he decided that it had nothing to do with him. Maybe it was House Cuddy didn't want to see. Wilson came down the last fight of stairs and walked to his office thinking.

If Cuddy was avoiding House she either knew she had done something to hurt him or else the kiss meant more to her than Wilson thought. Now which was it?

He sat at his desk and glanced through some messages. Who decided to buy pink message pads he wondered. He had a couple of calls to return to people who were already aware of the outlook for their family member. He didn't mind answering questions he had already answered a time or two before. People hear cancer and they get scared. Any news was welcomed if it had a shred of optimism. Even bad news was asked to be repeated in the hope that the answer had changed.

Wilson had charts on his desk that required his attention. But he found it hard to concentrate on them while thinking about Cuddy's actions.

She had acted impetuously last night. She kissed House when House probably needed to be kissed. What she didn't do was think about the repercussions the next day. Cuddy would have gone home last night to reliable Lucas and little Rachel not giving House a thought.

She would have told Lucas at breakfast that House was suffering and she felt badly for him. Then she would have kissed Rachel and gone to work. She did what was expected of a good employer, she checked to see how her employee was doing. She didn't get personal, she read the charts and made inquiries.

Wilson was very displeased by these thoughts he wanted to walk down to Cuddy's office and dish up more of what he had served her last night. But then the part of Wilson that was logical and calm bobbed up. He was also Cuddy's friend and he tried to look at the situation from her side.

She liked House. That was a proven fact. They had history. In spite of everything she cared about him. Seeing him in the kind of pain he was in had to be hard for her. Being a friend and a doctor she would have felt helpless to stop his pain. So did Wilson.

House was trying to stay off the Vicodin but when he was in that much pain it had to be the first thing on his mind. Wilson could imagine House demanding morphine or some other form of opiate to manage his pain. He was also sure that Cuddy would have done what Wilson would do; try to find an alternative. House wouldn't receive the pain dampening effect like an opiate could provide, but he would be less likely to become addicted again.

House wouldn't have cared. He would have wanted the drugs. Wilson really couldn't blame him if he did.

That put Cuddy in an untenable situation. She would have wanted to help free him of the pain and been unable to give him what he wanted.

She hurt for him. She wanted to make it better for him. She kissed him.

Wilson rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He felt badly for his two friends: Cuddy for wanting to be emotional when logic was the rule in her life now. And House for being in a position that left him uncertain of his own emotions while battling physical pain.

Life wasn't fair.

Cuddy returned from the cafeteria with a salad and iced tea. She really was hungry. She went to her desk and set the container of vegetables down. She noticed the light on her office phone was blinking. There was a message waiting. She knew who it was.

When she left the office for the cafeteria thirty-five minutes ago and hadn't brought her cell phone. That was a deliberate decision. She thought she would only be gone a short while and she was avoiding someone. That 'someone' had probably called the cell and then called her office when he didn't get an answer.

She sat down and opened the clear plastic container and dribbled salad dressing on the leaves. She picked up her fork and took the first bite enjoying the coolness and crunch of Romaine combined with the tang of blue cheese. She checked her desk drawer for sugarless mints. It wouldn't do to go about the hospital with blue cheese breath.

Cuddy looked at the telephone and sighed. What was she going to tell Lucas?

She could say she had an early meeting but he had an amazing ability to know when someone was lying. She could say that she wanted to check on House's MRI. That was truthful. She was there to check on him. She just left when she saw Wilson and he saw her. What must Wilson be thinking?

Cuddy toyed with a cherry tomato and looked at the phone.

She had to talk to Lucas. She had ruined his Valentine's Day dinner and was sure he had meant to surprise her with the roses. God what was she going to tell him?

I'm sorry Lucas but I stayed with House because he was worried and in pain. He looked so helpless that I kissed him. Oh yeah. That would work…not.

Cuddy stabbed some radicchio savagely. She chewed the bitter leaf wincing at her callousness.

She didn't kiss House because she felt sorry for him. She kissed him because she wanted to.

There it was a shard of truth at last. She had wanted to kiss House.

Cuddy moaned.

Doing what she wanted instead of what was logical didn't fit in with her plans.

Lucas is stable. Lucas would be there when she needed him. Lucas is great with Rachel. Lucas is…Lucas is…

"Lucas is boring," she said out loud to herself with a sigh.

Cuddy looked guiltily at the flashing light on the phone.

She had said it. She finally admitted to herself what she had been thinking since the conference. Lucas didn't challenge her. He didn't stimulate her intellectually. They didn't go out to street fairs or concerts. They barely got beyond takeout dinners and movies on DVD.

It wasn't that Cuddy didn't like quiet evenings at home but an occasional outing would be nice instead of Chinese and 'How was your day dear?'

She liked the stories Lucas told about some of the cases he was investigating but usually he spent the better part of the time staked out in his car. PI work wasn't as romantic as 'The Maltese Falcon' made it appear.

House was many thing but boring wasn't one of them. House could make her laugh. She had to keep a professional demeanor around him but inside she laughed at most of his antics.

She knew House well enough to know that evenings with him would be about music and fun. They would check out an occasional monster truck show and top it off with a ride on a ferris wheel at an amusement park. He might take her to hear a jazz quartet. He would probably sit in with them.

House was well read, inquisitive, funny and sexy as hell.

That was one area where House had it all over Lucas. House was hot!

Poor Lucas. He was a proficient lover. House on the other hand…

Cuddy had dreamed of their lovemaking long after House had left Michigan. She had never been touched the way he touched her. He was slow, careful and knew when to give and when to hold back. He hadn't rushed. That was rare among the guys she had dated. House had an athletic build that attracted her. He had a charged sarcastic wit even back then. He laughed easier in those days.

They had a very good time.

But then House was expelled and she didn't see him again. But she thought of him a lot and usually while she was in bed.

Cuddy pushed aside the salad. She hadn't meant to, but her mind was now filled with House.

She took a drink of her tea. Yuck! Why did she get that damn raspberry flavored stuff? She hated sweetened tea and this junk used artificial flavorings. She thought she would mention something to the cafeteria manager the next time she saw him.

She looked at the phone and decided she couldn't put off calling any longer. She had meetings this afternoon and then it would be time to go home. She knew Lucas had a case and would be gone most of the evening. Then it would be bedtime and that was a terrible time to try to talk things out.

Cuddy listened to her message. Yes it was Lucas. He left a sweet message saying he was sorry he had missed her this morning and hoping she had a nice day. It was very considerate and _very_ Lucas.

She dialed the home number. It rang a couple of times and then was picked up.

"Hello lady," Lucas said.

"Hello yourself."

"How's the madhouse today."

"Same three ring circus it usually is," Cuddy answered with a light laugh.

"How's House?"

Not much preamble. Lucas went right to the subject Cuddy was trying to avoid.

"He's doing better. The MRI was clear."

"Tell him I hope he feels better."

"Yeah, I'll tell him if I can get away," she replied biting her lower lip.

It got quiet on the other end for a moment.

"I'm sure you'll get by to see him if you can."

"I'll do my best. How's Rachel? I had to rush off in such a hurry."

"She's fine. She asked for you."

Cuddy closed her eyes.

_Oh God. How terrible am I?_

"Tell her mommy misses her and can't wait to give her a big hug and kiss."

"I'll be sure she knows. What time will you be home?"

"I should be there around six."

"I'll be gone by five. Shouldn't be later than nine-thirty or ten when I get home."

"I'll wait up."

"Great. Look I'm sorry about last night."

"No. It was my fault."

"It wasn't anyone's fault. House was in trouble. He's your friend."

"He's my friend and my employee."

"Right. I couldn't expect you to just leave him."

Cuddy shifted in her chair. She heard so many unsaid things from Lucas or was that her conscience pulling and pushing her in uncomfortable directions?

"He's doing much better. I'll see you tonight and we can stay up watching an old movie."

"I'd like that."

"I'll pick up The Maltese Falcon."

"Sam Spade! You know PI work isn't as glamorous as the movies portray it."

"Oh I don't know. You tell some great stories."

That's it Lisa, lie to him.

"Well I'd better let you get back to work."

She looked at the clock.

"Oh my God I have a meeting with the budget committee in five minutes."

She tossed out the salad and shifted papers looking for the budget report she had finished that morning.

"Okay I'll see you tonight."

"Alright. See you tonight."

"Lisa? I love you."

"You too. Bye."

"Bye."

There was a click on the other end of the line.

Lucas was looking sadly at the telephone. He had told her he loved her. She didn't say it back.

Lisa Cuddy picked up her neat report with all of its careful figures and left her office. She walked down the hallway toward the conference room hating herself and not knowing what to do about it. She passed the Department of Diagnostic Medicine and felt even worse.

In a room on the fourth floor House gasped in pain.


	6. Chapter 6

The Queen Of Hearts

Chapter Six

House had been reading a gossip magazine that Wilson had thoughtfully brought him. Brad Pitt was on the cover. House turned the pages stopping every now and then to make a comment to himself.

"Oh Lindsay Lohan definitely had her lips done."

He turned the page.

A young brunet nurse had brought him his Coumadin. He noticed the moment she entered that she was bra-less. Her boobs were pretty good but Cuddy's were better. Damn, he was thinking of her again.

He flipped the pages of the magazine looking for something to read taking his mind off Cuddy. He found a celebrity black tie affair for the survivors of the Chilean earthquake.

_George Clooney can really wear a tux. Bet he owns a dozen._

House began thinking of discharging himself. His leg felt fine, well it felt normal for him. He was getting bored lying in bed. The only good thing about being bedridden was missing clinic hours.

He winced at the sunlight coming through the window. It was very bright in his room. He reached up and clicked off the reading light. He didn't need it now. It was still too bright.

He eased his legs over the side of the bed. His bladder was full and he needed to relieve it. He unhooked the lead to his monitor and limped to the bathroom.

While he was in there a nurse came into his room.

"Dr. House do you need help? Your monitor is off."

"Are you the nurse with the jello filled funbags?"

Melissa blushed.

"If you are then yes I could use help in here. How much do you get paid for kinkiness?"

Melissa left quickly.

House finished and left the bathroom. He smiled to himself when he saw she was gone. He limped over to the window and closed the vertical blinds. That was better. All that brightness was giving him a headache.

He limped back to bed and got in under the covers. God he was bored. He picked up the remote and turned on the television. He had about 100 channels to choose from. There had to be something on that was good.

House looked around his room. It was spacious and well appointed for a hospital room. This was one of the rooms reserved for big doaners to the hospital. It was furnished with a wide 'pleather' padded bench that could easily be a bed for a family member. The chairs were comfortable with blond wooden arms and soft green cushions of 'pleather' material, easy to keep clean and hygienic.

Built into the wall was a dresser with space for the TV on top. It had drawers for storing personal items. The dresser was also of blond wood as was the one bedside table. This room was straight from an Ikea catalog.

The best feature in the room as far as House was concerned was the large flat screen high definition television with working remote.

House flipped through the channels looking for something to hold his interest. He checked the sports channels. No monster trucks, but that wasn't too surprising. There was golf and a replay of an NCAA basketball game.

He tried the basketball game but lost interest quickly. He flipped the remote again. He settled on a PBS station broadcasting Austin City Limits. John Legend was performing. House watched Legend at the piano has he rendered some cool Jazz. The guy had the chops and House could appreciate his artistry.

He wished his head would stop hurting. It was taking away from his enjoyment of the music.

The TV was acting up a bit. The signal was being disrupted. The picture was pixilated. No, it was sparkling. That was weird. He glanced at the remote. That was sparkling too.

_Oh no._

He was experiencing aura and on his way to a migraine.

_Damn._

House hit his call button. The nurse's station was slow to answer.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to need some Relpax in here now!"

"Who prescribed it?"

"I did!"

"I can't bring you medication unless it's prescribed by a doctor."

"I'm a doctor!"

"Who is handling your case?"

"Dr. James Wilson! Please call or page him!"

"I'll page him now doctor."

"Hurry!"

House rubbed his eyes. It was a useless thing to do. There wasn't anything wrong with them. The problem was in the vision center of his brain.

The 'sparkling' appeared in the optic center of his vision. No mater where he looked he saw the aura. House knew he had thirty minutes until he would have a full-blown migraine. He also knew that Relpax taken at the beginning of a migraine could often prevent it from happening.

_Hopefully._

House didn't want to have a migraine right after he had suffered with his leg. That wasn't fair. He wondered if God or fate or whatever power kept the planets from colliding was playing a joke on him. Well it wasn't funny.

He was running out of time. What was taking so long? Why hadn't the nurse come with the medication? Where was Wilson?

Wilson was being paged to call 452. He sighed.

_House must want another magazine or a sandwich. Well I'm busy right now._

Wilson was talking a family through the steps that would be taken to combat their child's leukemia. They had caught it early but there were still risks. Wilson used his most calming reassuring voice. He told the parents he saw no reason that their daughter shouldn't recover and lead a normal life. Telling a family this was always a precarious situation. Sometimes cancer even when caught early could prove fatal.

Cuddy was debating the hospital's budget line by line. God she hated having to beg for every cent needed to run this place! She wanted new equipment for the pathology lab. She wanted additional money for a full-field digital mammography system. It was better for their female patients. No more squashing the breast between two plates of glass.

The board was talking about cutting nurses to pay for the items Cuddy wanted. Not acceptable in her eyes.

She heard an overhead page for Dr. Wilson to call room 452. House's room she thought.

There was a suggestion on the table to cut five nurses.

Cuddy returned mentally to the discussion.

"Five nurses! Are you out of your mind?"

House was trying to hold on. Wilson would call and order the meds. House would be all right.

He gasped in pain. Time had run out. His head hurt fit to burst. House fumbled for the call button.

"Yes."

"It's too late for the Relpax. I need Toradol and Phenergan for the nausea."

"I'll tell Dr. Wilson when he calls."

"Just bring it to me! Please! I'll take the heat with Dr. Cuddy!"

Melissa thought about doing it but she had already run afoul of Dr, Cuddy that morning. She didn't want to risk doing it again. The hospital rumor mill was already ripe with speculation that some nurses might lose their jobs. That always happened when the budget committee met. Everyone held their breath wondering if Dr. Cuddy would agree to cutting jobs as a way to increase funding to other areas.

"I'll page him again Dr. House."

The intercom went dead. In a moment House heard the page for Dr. Wilson to dial the nurse's station at 450.

Wilson heard the page. The parents of the young girl looked up. Isn't that what people always did when they heard something on an overhead speaker? It's not as if we listen with our eyes, he thought.

He was wrapping things up with the parents. He stood from behind the desk and shook their hands. He repeated that they shouldn't worry too much. The cancer was caught in a very early stage.

The parents thanked him and left his office.

Wilson went back to his desk and dialed 450. He wondered what House had done or said to the nurses. The phone rang a few times and was picked up.

"This is Melissa."

"This is Dr. Wilson. You paged me?"

"Dr. Wilson can you approve Toradol and Phenergan for Dr. House?"

"He has a migraine?"

"He must be in a lot of pain. He begged me to get him the medication."

Wilson was moving around his desk as he spoke hurriedly.

"I'll be right there."

A concerned James Wilson left his office with a quick stride.

House was holding his head and getting more nauseous by the second. He thought of the bus accident. He had received a head injury from the crash. Was that the cause of his migraine? Maybe. He wanted to get out of bed and pace the room but he was afraid if he moved he would be very sick.

Where was Wilson with the Toradol!

Wilson ran up the stairs not wanting to wait for an elevator. House having a migraine was puzzling. He also felt guilty for making House wait when he was in pain. Wilson thought of the bus accident that had killed Amber and injured House. He thought of the electrical stimulation House went through to find the memory he had suppressed. Wilson had asked House to do it. He always felt badly about it. Grief makes people do unforgivable things. He had seen it a hundred times over. Now he was guilty of it himself.

It was his fault House was suffering now.

The pain was getting worse. Much worse. House leaned over the bed and was sick on the floor. He regretted how much he had for breakfast. Never again he vowed. He continued retching until he had nothing left.

_Oh God._

Karma reached out with a cruel hand to collect her boons. House was forced to pay.

Wilson hurried to the nurse's desk and demanded the two medications House needed. The nurse went to get the two syringes and Wilson hurried to the room.

House was sitting up in the bed. The stench of vomit hit Wilson's nose. He called for a nurse to get housekeeping up there to clean it up.

"Help's coming," he said to House.

Wilson went to the bathroom to get a wet cloth so House could wipe his mouth. He handed it to House but he didn't take it.

Wilson saw House look at him.

Then Wilson noticed. He hoped to God he was wrong.

House's mouth drooped a bit on the right side.

_It can't be._

He took House's right hand.

"Squeeze my fingers," Wilson said, his mouth extremely dry.

Nothing happened.

He lifted the hand and released it. It flopped useless onto the bed.

"Oh my God," Wilson said with a sharp intake of breath.

House had suffered a stroke.

Wilson thought he would be sick. This couldn't happen, not to House!

House watched Wilson. He saw the terrible dawning of understanding on his face. Wilson knew what had occurred. He did the usual checks for a patient with stroke. Poor Wilson. He was devastated. House wanted to say something to him. He wanted to tell him that he was there and knew what had happened to him. He couldn't.

He had control of his eyes. He could follow Wilson as he tried to assess the amount of damage the stroke had caused. House knew. His right side was paralyzed. He couldn't move his arm or leg. The right side of his face felt numb. He couldn't talk.

The clot that had been in his leg went to his brain. He could still feel the pain in his thigh. Being paralyzed did not deaden it. Life was cruel.

His head was a cacophony of pain. He could still think and reason. It was nice to know he wasn't a vegetable. If he were then he'd be the 'House salad'.

_They'd be able to put the 'House dressing' on me._

Lame but nice to know he still had his sense of humor. Too bad he couldn't share it with his distraught best friend.

Wilson looked at House, his eyes large dark and moist. He shook his head sorrowfully.

"Why does everything happen to you?"

He picked up the phone by the bed and paged Cuddy.

Cuddy was leaving the budget meeting. It wasn't a victory. She got to keep the nurses but lost the digital mammography system she wanted. There was a slight increase to the pathology lab. It came at a price. The clinic would be closing an hour earlier on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

_Well that should please House at least._

Once again the question had been raised as to the need of a Diagnostics Department. House was more trouble than he was worth, a committee member said. They would save money without him and his team. Cuddy could get the equipment and save the nurses by cutting that entire department.

Again Cuddy had to counter with House's success rate and why Princeton Plainsboro was one of the leading hospitals in the country. It was the same old song and dance. She was getting tired of the steps. House and his team were not a bargaining chip.

She was walking back to her office. On the way she passed House's. She tried not to look inside but did in spite of herself. She missed seeing him at his desk.

The page for Dr. Wilson to call 450 puzzled her. Why did he need to call the floor desk?

_Maybe the better question is what has House done now._

She smiled thinking about Nurse Melissa trying to handle him. She must have needed reinforcements to call Wilson. House was most likely bored and was annoying the poor girl. Well welcome to PPTH little girl!

Cuddy entered her office and sat the finance report on her desk.

"A fat lot of help you were," she said to the file.

She went into her bathroom and used the toilet. She had been nearly crossing her legs through the latter part of the meeting. She washed her hands. The sounds of running and refilling water drowned out the page. Cuddy dried her hands and returned to her desk.

Wilson hung up the phone. He had ordered a stat page for Cuddy.

He turned his attention back to House. He had seen House follow him with his eyes. There was a spark. House was in there.

"Can you blink your eyes?"

House did so a couple of times to be sure Wilson saw.

"House blink once for yes and twice for no. Can you do that?"

House blinked very deliberately once.

"Are you in pain?"

House blinked once. A single tear ran down his face.

Lisa Cuddy looked at her watch. She was late! The sitter had said she needed to leave on time for once. She had a family birthday to get to.

Cuddy grabbed her briefcase, coat and hat. She glanced at the picture of her and Lucas. House had cut Lucas out of the picture and replaced his head with that of a chimpanzee. Cuddy had carefully replaced the chimps face back in the picture her father had taken. She made a new copy of the one with Lucas.

She left her office thinking of the evening Lucas had planned for them tonight, a belated Valentine's Day celebration.

She was in her car when the page for her to call 450 was repeated.


	7. Chapter 7

The Queen Of Hearts

Chapter Seven

Lisa Cuddy arrived at home. Her sitter Robin was waiting.

"Thanks for getting away so early, Robin said hurriedly."

"You mean on time," Cuddy answered taking off her coat.

"On time is early for you," Robin replied picking up her scarf, hat and jacket. "It's my grandmother's birthday. Mom would scalp me if I was late."

Cuddy hung her coat in the closet.

"Where's Rachel?"

"In the playpen."

"Is Lucas home?"

"Yes he came in a few minutes ago," Robin replied putting on her jacket and hat.

Cuddy smiled. Lucas had promised a lovely evening. He was cooking dinner and Cuddy was to do nothing but relax. She snorted a laugh.

_Relax with Rachel needing dinner and a bath? Right._

Robin said goodbye and went out the front door.

Cuddy moved her briefcase to her home office. She had a few personnel files to look through. No, they could wait. Tonight was her Valentine's Day. She left the briefcase in the room and closed the door. Inside it her cell phone rang.

Cuddy went into the family room and walked to the playpen. Rachel Cuddy pulled herself up and bounced on her feet.

"Is that mommy's girl? Did you miss me?"

She reached down and picked up the little girl taking her hand and kissing it.

Lucas called out from the kitchen.

"You're home early."

"You mean on time for once. Yes, Robin had a family celebration to get to."

"How was your day?"

"The meeting with the budget committee didn't come off as well as I had hoped. I worked on that damn finance report until I thought I'd rupture brain cells."

"They didn't agree to any of your requests?"

"I got a little bit more for pathology but I have to close the clinic an hour earlier two days a week." Cuddy walked to the kitchen carrying Rachel.

"Ouch. Well at least House will be happy. How is he by the way?"

"He's better. I'm sure he will insist on being released and he'll be back to solving his puzzles by tomorrow most likely."

"That's good." He gave her a quick kiss.

"I'm going to feed Rachel and give her a bath," Cuddy said. She put Rachel in her high chair. She looked at Lucas with a quizzical eye.

"What smells so good?"

"Dinner," he answered buzzing about the kitchen.

Cuddy got a plastic dish and put some Gerber creamed chicken on it. She added strained peas and warmed it briefly in the microwave. She took it out and tested the temperature.

_Just right Goldilocks._

She picked up a baby spoon and carried the plate over to the highchair.

Lucas was fetching a tray from the refrigerator.

"What is the 'Princess of Princeton' having tonight?" he asked.

Cuddy tried to give Rachel a bite of the chicken.

"She is having the chicken with peas tonight aren't you your majesty?"

Rachel took a mouthful then proceeded to put her fist in the peas.

Lucas appeared with a damp paper towel.

"Her majesty has made a mess. Here."

"Thanks," Cuddy said taking the towel and wiping away the green goop. She looked at the tray Lucas had placed on the kitchen counter.

"Are those stuffed mushrooms?"

Lucas looked at her raising one eyebrow.

"Did you want oysters? I could get some and caviar."

"Aren't those aphrodisiacs?"

Lucas turned his back and opened the pantry door.

"Could be," he said finding a container of seasoned breadcrumbs.

Cuddy fed Rachel another spoonful.

"So what else is on the menu?"

Lucas sprinkled breadcrumbs on the stuffed mushroom caps.

"Asparagus."

Cuddy looked up.

"Another supposed aphrodisiac."

"Salad."

"That sounds safe."

"With radishes."

"Oh? Didn't Egyptians believe radishes enhanced a man's performance?"

"Really?"

"So I've read. What else?"

"Champagne."

"Of course."

"And strawberries dipped in dark chocolate for dessert."

Cuddy smiled as she wiped Rachel's mouth.

"Do you have something planned for after dessert?"

"Maybe," he answered going to the refrigerator and pulling out the asparagus.

Cuddy smiled and continued to feed Rachel. The little girl did a fair job of eating. She also kept most of it off the floor, a victory of sorts.

Lucas was cleaning and cutting the asparagus as Cuddy removed Rachel from the highchair.

"I'm going to give her a bath."

"M'hmm," he replied acknowledging her words as he rinsed the stalks.

Cuddy carried Rachel into the little girl's bedroom. She opened the dresser and chose a pair of pink pajamas with the original version of Winnie The Pooh on them. Cuddy smiled as she looked at them. They were a present from Wilson. So was the stuffed bear that matched.

She took Rachel into her bathroom and turned on the water to fill the tub. She checked the temperature. When it was just right she put the stopper in the drain. While she was undressing Rachel she heard the phone ring.

Why is it that when your hands are full…

"Lucas would you get that? Tell whoever it is that I'm busy," she called.

Lucas wiped his hands and went to the phone.

"Hello? She's busy."

"What?" Wilson said.

"She asked me to tell whoever it is that she's busy."

"Lucas its Wilson."

"I know. I recognized your voice."

"Its about House."

Lucas closed his eyes. Once again had House ruined his plans?

"What's the matter?"

Wilson took a breath.

"He's had a stroke."

"What! When?"

"About forty-five minutes ago."

Lucas ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh my God. I'm…I'm really sorry," Lucas said feeling terrible for what he had been thinking. "I'll get Lisa, she's giving Rachel a bath."

There was silence on the other end of the phone as Wilson came to a decision.

"No, don't tell her."

"She'd want to know."

"She'll find out in the morning."

"I don't think…"

"There is nothing she can do. I'll be here with him. Really there is no reason to spoil her evening."

"Okay," Lucas responded guiltily.

"Sorry to bother you. Bye," Wilson said and hung up the phone.

Cuddy was kneeling next to the tub watching Rachel play with a rubber ducky.

Lucas returned to the kitchen thinking. Lisa would want to know if anything happened to House but Wilson was right. There wasn't anything she could do. If he told her she would return to the hospital…

"And do what?" he said out loud.

Cuddy used a washcloth and wet Rachel's head before pouring baby shampoo into her hand and washing her daughter's hair.

Lucas took the asparagus and placed it into a steamer. He was still debating with himself. Maybe it would be best to tell Lisa in the morning about House. He shook his head. He knew she'd be furious at him for keeping this information a secret from her. Wilson thought it would be best for her not to know. Wilson would contact her as soon as she arrived at the hospital.

_There is nothing she can do for him now._

Lucas sighed. Wilson was right. He decided not to tell Lisa. She would find out tomorrow.

He took a perfect rib roast out of the oven. Thank God these things were easy to do. He had seasoned the meat before he left that morning. All he had to do was tell Robin to turn the oven on and put the meat in at three-thirty. Simple. He had made the stuffed mushroom caps ahead as well as a salad. The asparagus was steaming. Dinner would be ready soon.

Cuddy took Rachel from the bath and toweled her dry. She picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. She laid her on the bed and blew onto her tummy. Rachel laughed and Cuddy did it again and again.

Playtime over she began dressing Rachel. She looked toward the open bedroom door.

"Who was on the phone?" She called to Lucas.

He put the pan of stuffed mushrooms under the broiler.

"Some guy wanted to know if you would support proposition nine," he called back hoping there _was_ a prop nine.

"I'm not," she answered. "Stupid to rezone the northeast side."

"Right," Lucas answered. "I told him we were eating."

"Good. Why do those guys always call at dinner time?"

Cuddy picked Rachel up in her arms and carried her into the kitchen. She held her up to Lucas.

"She is off to bed."

Lucas smiled and kissed the child's cheek.

"Night night Rachel."

Cuddy waved her little hand. She carried her daughter to her crib and laid Rachel on her back. She turned on the musical light. Cuddy watched as the light cast stars and moons on the walls and ceiling. The music was soft and lovely. Rachel Cuddy watched the stars circle overhead and yawned.

"Night sweetheart," Cuddy said and made her way quietly from the room.

In the kitchen Lucas was taking the mushrooms from the oven. He checked the asparagus. It was done as well. He removed it from the steamer and placed it into a serving dish.

He carved the roast and put some slices on a platter. He added the mushrooms around the edge of the plate and admired his work.

"Not bad."

Cuddy came into the kitchen.

"Wow," she exclaimed. "I didn't know you could cook."

"I'm a man of many talents. I also have a simple step by step cookbook with pictures," he admitted. "Now go sit in the dinning room and I'll serve dinner."

Cuddy nodded and went to the table.

Lucas had set it with Cuddy's good tablecloth, dishes and silverware. He entered and lit some candles in silver holders that were in the middle of the table. He scurried out again. When he returned he had a bottle of ice-cold champagne.

"For m'lady," he said popping the cork. He poured the drink into two pretty fluted glasses.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he said giving her a winning smile.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Cuddy echoed. She sipped her champagne. It was very nice.

Lucas returned to the kitchen and brought out the food. He placed the salad, roast and vegetable on the white linen topped table. He arranged the dishes just so.

"I should have brought a camera," he said smacking his forehead. "My mother would never believe this."

"I'll let you cook Passover Seder," Cuddy said laughing. "We'll have a photographer."

Lucas sat down and asked for her salad plate. He gave her a small helping and returned it. He then asked for her dinner plate and gave her a portion of each dish.

Cuddy thanked him and tried her salad. It was baby spinach with crumbled Gorgonzola cheese, fresh raspberries and candied pecans. Lucas had used Raspberry vinaigrette on it. It was delicious. She took a sip of her champagne and reflected on how good Lucas was to her. To have cooked this marvelous meal just for her was a treasured thing to do. She slipped off her shoes under the table. This was the life.

Lucas smiled at her across the table. He told her about his latest case. She listened attentively. He made her laugh when he told her he had employed a disguise and how the mustache had drooped off his lip and landed in a cup of coffee.

They talked and ate. When the plates were clean he went to the refrigerator and returned with the strawberries. He gave one to Cuddy and took one for himself.

She took a small bite and closed her eyes. It was wonderful.

He poured her more champagne.

She looked at him.

"Are you trying to get me drunk and have your way with me by any chance?" She took a deep drink.

"No," Lucas assured her. "Unless you think it would work."

"Maybe," she answered coyly.

He topped off her glass quickly.

When dinner was over he cleared the table. She insisted on helping him with the dishes.

Cuddy felt lightheaded and happy. She hummed an old tune and danced in her stocking feet, the shoes being forgotten under the table.

Lucas filled the sink with warm water and dish soap. He watched Cuddy dancing in a bemused sort of way.

She nearly lost her balance doing a complicated turn. He reached out and caught her. They kissed. He turned off the water. The dishes were forgotten.

Lucas picked Cuddy up and carried her to the bedroom. He set her upon the bed and disappeared for a moment. Cuddy looked at her dresser. There in a lovely vase of crystal were a dozen long stem pink roses spread delicately. Lucas had bought a fresh bouquet just for tonight. The roses from Valentine's Day were in the living room.

He returned with a box tied with a red satin ribbon. He gave the box to Cuddy. She looked at it and thanked him. There was a little gift card. She opened it and read, 'To my Queen of Hearts, Love Lucas'. Untying the ribbon she lifted the lid from the box. Inside nestled in tissue paper she found a red negligee. She lifted it from the box. It was beautiful, satin and trimmed with lace. It was also very short. She thanked Lucas with a kiss on the cheek and slid off the bed. Cuddy went to the bathroom and changed.

Lucas got out of his clothes. He slid between the sheets and waited for her to return.

Cuddy put the negligee on and admired herself in the mirror. She brushed her teeth and fluffed her hair.

She returned to the bedroom and Lucas pulled down the covers for her. She slid into bed and into his arms. He kissed her. She returned the kiss. Their body heat rose. He tried to fill her needs while assuaging his own. Thirty minutes later they both closed their eyes.

Cuddy looked to her left. He was on his side smiling at her. She smiled back. He raised himself up onto one elbow. She watched him expectantly. He produced a single perfect red rose. She watched him as he laid it between her breasts. He leaned over and kissed her.

His eyes took hold of hers. He kissed her and slowly ran his hand through her hair. She closed her eyes. He took her gently into his arms. He kissed her neck. He took his time. There was no reason to rush. Pleasure was in the deliberateness of his actions. He took her hand in his and intertwined his fingers with hers. They breathed together. He held her close to his heart. She stroked his hair as he kissed her deeply. He rolled her onto her back supporting himself above her. She placed a hand on his bare chest. He leaned down and kissed her lips, face and throat. She ran her hands over his chest and shoulders.

She looked into his large blue eyes. House stroked her cheek.

Cuddy opened her eyes. It wasn't quite dawn and the sounds outside her window were muted. She looked to her left. Lucas was sleeping soundly. She turned her head and looked up at the ceiling.

She felt disappointed. She felt guilty. She felt her heart quicken.

Biting her lower lip she thought of her dream of House.

She had never wanted him more.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Queen Of Hearts**

Chapter 8

By Jackyblu

House was moving in and out of sleep. He had confusing dreams. They seemed urgent as if there was something he had forgotten to do. What was it? He tried to recall the last dream. It was just on the edge of his consciousness. This was maddening.

"You're awake," Wilson said softly swimming into view.

_Of course I am. See eyes open and everything_.

"Are you thirsty?"

Well now that you mention it…

"House are you thirsty?"

Yes. Got a beer?

"Come on House. Once for yes twice for no."

Once what for yes?

"House, blink if you understand me."

_What are you so upset about? Okay, I'll blink if it makes you happy._

"Thank God. You scared the crap out of me which was no doubt your intension."

Wilson poured a glass of water. He put a straw in it and brought it up to House's lips. He looked so hopeful.

House tried to take the straw in his mouth but his lips kept pushing it away.

_Hold it still Wilson._

"Come on House. Try again."

_I will if you stop moving it._

"House you can do this."

Hold the damn thing still!

Wilson sighed. "Okay maybe this is too much on the first day." He took the straw and put it between House's lips.

_Very funny. There isn't anything in the glass. You're a riot Wilson._

House cast his eyes down and saw water in the cup. That was odd. He thought it was empty. He took a sip. No he didn't. He tried again. Nothing.

What the hell?

Wilson removed the cup.

"I'll get some lemon swabs for you're mouth."

Wilson left the room and House sat against his pillow baffled. What was going on?

He sat thinking. The dream was on the peripheral of his thoughts. He tried to dismiss it. It wasn't relevant to the situation. It kept reappearing like a specter in an old movie.

He had been in pain. His leg? No. His head. The accident! No, that wasn't it.

Wilson was with him. He gave him an injection. Damn. He lost the shreds of the image.

House glanced at the door of his room wondering when Wilson would return. He had to ask him a question. He needed more information to extrapolate an answer. He brought his hand up to rub his face. Something was off.

He rubbed the left side of his face and then the right. The right side felt odd.

It all came back like falling over a waterfall.

He had suffered a stroke.

He wanted to yell. He wanted to cry. He wanted to curse God. He could do none of them.

Wilson returned and went to the left side of the bed. House reached out and grabbed his arm. He looked at Wilson with eyes flowing with emotions.

Wilson understood. He had been House's best friend long enough to read those blue eyes.

"You thought it was a dream didn't you? You didn't remember it happening."

House blinked once.

"I'm so sorry."

_Crap happens, usually to me as it turns out._

Wilson took hold of House's left hand.

"Are you scared?"

House blinked once and then thought for a moment.

_I'm pissed off actually. What exactly was it I did to God? Besides dismissing his existence I mean._

House slowly and deliberately blinked twice.

Wilson smiled. "You're angry. That's a good sign. It means you haven't given up and accepted this."

Damn right I haven't accepted this. Not by a long shot!

"You're going to get through this. You're too of much an insufferable ass not to."

_You say that like it's a character flaw._

House now knew what was wrong with him. Okay he had the diagnosis. The patient had suffered a stroke. Now he needed the particulars of the case. How much damage had been done?

House rolled his eyes upwards to Wilson's face. He lifted his left hand holding it as if a pen rested between his thumb and index finger. He mimed writing on an invisible pad.

Wilson nodded and left the room. He returned with a small shiny white slate and a marker.

_A mini whiteboard. How appropriate. _

Wilson pulled the cap off the pen and put it in House's left hand. He laid the whiteboard on house's knees.

House rolled his eyes downward. He put the marker to the board and wrote very slowly.

'How long?'

Wilson read the message.

"It happened last evening around five-thirty. It's eight-thirty in the morning now."

_Okay. Twenty hours ago the patient experienced a possible aneurism in the brain. _

He put the marker back to the board and wrote.

'CT MRI?'

"You're scheduled for nine o'clock."

House took his hand and tried to wipe off the writing. Wilson took a tissue and cleaned it for him. House wrote again.

'Foreman?'

"I thought I'd have him do it."

House blinked twice.

Wilson was surprised.

"You don't want him doing the scan?"

House blinked twice.

Wilson gave House a confused look.

"Why? It's not like he and everyone else in the place aren't going to hear about this."

House looked at Wilson and then wrote on the board.

'Want you.'

"Okay. I'll do the scan if you're more comfortable."

'Treatment?'

"I gave you heparin and lovastatin. Your cholesterol is a bit high. Told you to stop eating unhealthy junk."

'Screw you.'

Wilson smiled.

"Ah. Now there's the House I know."

House blinked once.

Cuddy was hurrying around the house getting ready for work. She poured herself some coffee and grabbed a bran muffin. She wondered how many calories were in it as she peeled the paper cup away. She took a bite and a sip of coffee.

_Oh well I'll use the stair climber tonight._

She finished her breakfast standing at the sink. It was one habit she picked up in med school and never changed. On weekends she had to force herself to sit at the table. When Rachel got older she would have to learn to eat with her like a family. Very civilized.

She checked her watch. Where had the morning gone? She went back to the bedroom. Lucas was up and in the bathroom brushing his teeth. She looked under the bed.

"Have you seen my black shoes?"

"What?"

"I can't find my black shoes."

"I can't hear you."

"Oh never mind," she said in exasperation.

Cuddy left the bedroom padding down the hall barefoot. Rachel was awake and making noises in her crib. Cuddy went in and picked her up.

"Good morning sweetheart. Shall we get dressed for Robin? Yes lets get dressed and Lucas will feed you some breakfast before Robin gets here."

Cuddy went to the closet and found a little pair of corduroy over-alls in a cheery yellow. She pulled out a top with little flowers on it. Cuddy changed her daughter and was putting socks on her feet when Lucas came into the room.

"I got that."

She smiled.

"Thanks. I still can't find my shoes."

She let Lucas take over with Rachel and left the room.

She got as far as the living room and stopped to think. Shoes. Where the hell did she put them? Cuddy looked toward the dinning room and spotted them under the table where she had pushed them off last night.

Ah!

She went to the table and fished them out from underneath. She stepped into the right one and then the left looking at the vase of pink roses on the table. She thought she would take some of them to brighten up her office. She looked through the bouquet to find the prettiest ones. She pulled one out.

_He placed a perfect red rose between her breasts. _

Cuddy took a quick deep breath. Her dream of House filled her mind. She closed her eyes and felt her pulse quicken. She pushed it from her mind. She didn't have time to indulge this fantasy and she felt guilty thinking of it while Lucas was in the kitchen feeding her daughter.

_Let it go Lisa._

She hurried to her home office to get her briefcase. She would have to go over those personnel files this morning since she elected not to do them last night.

She went to her desk and picked up the briefcase. Damn. She had forgotten to charge her cell phone.

_Nice job. I'll have to bring the charger with me and plug it in while I'm working._

She opened the case and pulled out her phone. The display said 'one missed call'.

Cuddy pressed the green button on the keypad. The phone showed the caller's number.

Wilson?

She pressed the key for her voice mail and heard it ring.

"You have one new message and six saved messages. New message…"

"It's Wilson. Uh… House had a stroke. I tried to reach you before you left tonight. I'm going to… to try to call your home phone. I…just call me back please. Okay…right. Bye."

Cuddy sat on the edge of the desk stricken. This was unbelievable. Her stomach hurt. It had to be a joke. If it was then it was the cruelest thing that had ever been done to her. It just couldn't be true.

_He was fine. I saw him. He was fine._

Her mouth was dry. She was shaking as if her blood sugar was too low. She ran her hand distractedly through her hair thinking. Wilson called last night. She cursed herself for not putting the phone on the charger. She would have heard it. Her anger was building.

Wilson said in the message he would call on her home line. Why didn't he? Why leave a message like that and not follow through!

Damn him! He should have called me!

Cuddy got up from the desk. She grabbed the briefcase and threw the phone into it. She quickly left the room and went to the closet to get her coat. She threw the door to the closet open.

How could Wilson do this! Did he think I wouldn't be worried? Did he think I wouldn't care?

She was pulling on her coat feeling both angry and worried in equal measure.

Why didn't he call?!

Cuddy grabbed her scarf and the briefcase. She started toward the door.

She stopped and turned around. She walked quietly back to the kitchen pausing at the doorway.

"Wilson called last night didn't he?"

Lucas was feeding Rachel. He remained facing the highchair.

"No he didn't."

"The call last night wasn't about any damn proposition."

Lucas kept his back to her. He fed Rachel another bite.

"There was nothing you could have done."

"House had a stroke and you didn't think I'd want to know!"

"Wilson thought it was best that you…"

"You're blaming Wilson!"

"He thought you should've had a good nights sleep. He was going to tell you when you got in this morning."

"You shouldn't have kept it from me!"

"I'm sorry. I wanted to have a nice evening with you. We had plans."

"You had plans!"

"Okay I had plans then. I thought you'd enjoy the dinner."

"You thought you were going to get laid," she spat waspishly.

Lucas flinched.

"I'm going to work!"

"Lisa I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt this deeply about House."

They looked at each other. That bit of truism hung frozen in the air between them.

"Now you do! He's a friend and colleague. I'm a doctor and his boss. Why the hell did you think I wouldn't want to know?"

She turned away before he could answer. She crossed living room and went to the front door.

Lucas fed Rachel another bite. He closed his eyes when he heard the door slam shut.

House was being taken to the imaging room. He watched the ceiling tiles pass.

The song 'Déjà Vu' ran through his mind.

'We have all been here before', to quote Crosby, Stills and Nash.

Wilson walked along beside the gurney. House had to look hard to his left to see him.

His left hand held onto the raised side bar. Wilson kept his hand on the bar too. It was close enough to touch House's. Neither moved their hand away.

The gurney was brought along side of the imaging machine. Wilson helped the attendant move House from the gurney to the table. House did what he could. He still had movement on his left side. He thought testing his abilities would be a good idea.

He was able to lift the left half of his body to a certain extent. The right half was like dead weight. Moving his head proved difficult. He tried very hard and turned it a tiny bit to the left.

Well that's progress anyway.

His right leg did not want to move with the rest of his body. Neither did his right arm.

Guess that's something I'm going to have to work on. Maybe I should make a list.

House was placed on the table. Wilson got him situated, helped him put in the soft earplugs and pressed the button to move the table into the machine.

Hello old buddy. We're beginning to make a habit of this. People will talk.

That thought both depressed and amused House. He was certain people were talking. The whole hospital was probably flapping their jaws about him. This was worse than being stared at because he was crippled.

He knew some of his colleagues were saying, 'It serves the S.O.B. right.' Still others would think it was a shame. That group would be in the minority.

His team would have mixed feelings he thought.

Taub would see it as a disaster for his career. He left a lucrative practice to return to the team.

Thirteen would be philosophical. People including jerks like House have bad things happen to them. She was proof of that.

Foreman would just want to get his hands on House's brain and once again take over his department.

Chase would actually feel badly for him as soon as he could be sure he wasn't being screwed with. House recalled the time Chase had hugged him when he thought House was dying. That was to be avoided again at all costs.

If there is any hugging to be done I prefer it be from Cuddy. I'd mash up against those love lumps of her's anytime.

He thought it strange that she wasn't in the booth with Wilson. He expected her to burst in and pour molten concern all over him. The fact that she wasn't here started him thinking.

She has hundreds of things to do. She has a daughter. She has Lucas. Maybe she can't get away.

The machine started to roar.

Maybe she doesn't care.

'Click' "House. Are you all right?"

House snapped his eyes wide open exaggeratedly.

Now that was silly. How am I supposed to answer?

House raised his left hand as high as he could and made the thumbs up sign.

"Very good. I knew you couldn't ignore a challenge," Wilson chuckled.

House flipped him the bird.

Wilson laughed.

Cuddy was driving through the streets of Princeton talking to herself. She couldn't decide whom she was madder at, Lucas or Wilson. She came to a decision, she was angry as hell with both of them.

She stopped at a light and tapped her right foot in irritation. Why when you're in a hurry to get somewhere you hit every damn light?

A guy in the car next to her was staring appreciatively. She caught his eye. Just before the light changed she mouthed two words to him the last one being 'off'. The light changed and Cuddy put her foot down on the gas.

She thought of House and how he must feel. It was so unfair. House was athletic when they had been in school. She knew he took care of his body and it showed. Then the infarction robbed him of his ability to do the things he had enjoyed. What was a stroke going to take from him?

She felt sick at the thought.

Unbidden her mind returned to her dream.

House. His voice. His touch. His kiss.

Her throat was tight. Her eyes were moist.

She drove faster.

Wilson was telling House some of the hospital gossip. It seemed the new nurse with the great rack in pediatrics had slapped Dr. Chambers in the cafeteria. Seem he reached for the wrong 'apples'.

Wish I could have seen that. Chambers is an ass.

Now Wilson was talking about Foreman and Thirteen. Looked like Foreman was trying to get himself back into her life and bed.

Really? I thought they had an understanding. He would beg and she'd say 'no' but in a very ' understanding' way.

House managed to quirk the left side of his mouth up.

Hey! Progress. I'll be sipping from a straw in no time. Never used one in my beer before. I might have to switch to those frozen tropical drinks. I'd get a little paper umbrella too.

He thought of the tune 'Rum and Coca Cola'. His dad used to play an old record of the song. Who was it that sang it? Some girl group he recalled. He decided it was the Andrews Sisters. His dad liked them.

House began humming the song. He put emphasis on every chord.

'Click' "House are you humming?!"

Well I'll be damned. My vocal chords work!

"Mm hmm," House answered in the affirmative.

Wilson let out a triumphant whoop.

"I knew it! I knew you were too damn stubborn to let a stroke beat you."

Thanks for the vote of confidence but it's whipping my tail so far.

House thought he was smiling. He also thought he heard a door opening. He couldn't see anything so he couldn't be sure.

The intercom was still on.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" Cuddy shouted at Wilson.

Uh oh. Mama bear is angry. Glad I'm in the cave.

"You were home with your daughter. There wasn't any reason for you to run back here."

Nice backhand Wilson.

"You didn't think I'd want to know he had a stroke?"

Ah. She does care.

"I'm his boss for God sake!"

…About her bottom line which sadly I can't see from in here.

"Ah! You would have come back because you care about him," Wilson countered pointing a finger at Cuddy.

"Of course I would. We're friends."

"No. It's more than that."

"Have you been taking his vicodin?"

I wish you two would stop fighting over little old me.

"Stop deflecting. You feel something for him."

"Yes. I feel friendship."

"This is more than friendship. You were ready to have me drawn and quartered when you came in here."

I really hate lying here listening to a private conversation, especially when it's about me.

"I haven't ruled out the possibility!"

This is getting good. Fifty bucks on the one with the bodacious boobs!

"Why don't you just admit you want to have a relationship with him?"

Yeah. Why don't you?

"I don't want a relationship with House."

"Then stop doing this. Stop showing up when he's hurting and disappearing the moment things are better."

"I…"

"Don't do this to him. Not now."

House heard footsteps receding. A door closed.

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. He shook his head. Cuddy had both confused and irritated him.

She couldn't do this to House. He wanted a relationship with her. She had said she couldn't count on him to be there for her. Now she shows up feeling sorry for him. That was dangerous to a man who had fallen so hard before.

Wilson was afraid House couldn't deal with another rejection of the kind he and Stacy had gone through. That had come at the worst moment of House's life. He suffered a painful break up to go with his crippling physical pain.

Cuddy was drawn to House at times when he was most vulnerable. She sat with him for hours when his leg was in agony. Then she went home to Lucas when his leg improved.

Would she be with him through therapy? Would she be there when he had good days and very bad ones?

"Damn her," Wilson exploded.

He turned back to the window that looked out into the imaging room. He glanced down and saw the intercom light was on.

Damn it! When the hell is Wilson going to get me out of this thing?

House felt that tightening in his throat that comes before tears burned in your eyes.

Cuddy returned to her office. She picked up her briefcase and coat from the couch where she had tossed them. She hung up her coat in a daze Wilson's words ringing in her ears. She took the briefcase to the desk. She had to get on those personnel files. She really had to. They were days late.

She sat at her desk and pulled them out of the case. She placed them in a pile and opened the one on top. She tried to concentrate on the page.

House.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Wilson's words were flooding back to her.

'Don't do this to him.'

She refocused her attention on the file.

She pursed her lips feeling her eyes sting and her throat ache.

House.

Cuddy got up from her desk and hurried to the bathroom. She leaned against the sink holding on to the sides with both hands. She bowed her head.

Her shoulders shook.

She took deep breaths trying to calm herself.

House.

Cuddy raised her head to look in the mirror. She saw a woman with a tear-streaked face who was in love with a man she knew was wrong for her.

The tears flowed faster.

Wilson took House out of the imaging machine. He said nothing as he did so. What was there to say? He had done his job as a friend. House needed to be protected. That was Wilson's role.

The gurney was brought over and the attendant helped to move House back on to it.

House rubbed his eyes with his left hand.

"I'm sorry you heard us."

House waved his hand as if to say it wasn't important.

"House. I'm sorry."

Again he waved his hand.

Wilson wanted to say more, but what more was there to say?

House closed his eyes as he was taken back to his room. He could hear Cuddy's words.

'I don't want a relationship with House.'

_Who would?_ He thought. _I'm a cripple. I'm not handsome. I'm not young. I'm not charming. What have I got to offer anyone?_

Cuddy was making the right choice. She was doing what was best for her.

I need to do what's best for me. Whatever that is.

House was returned to his bed. He waited to hear the results of his two scans.


	9. Chapter 9

The Queen Of Hearts

By Jackyblu

Chapter 9

House's mouth was dry. He watched Wilson fuss with the covers on his bed.

_Never mind covering my feet! What did the scans show?_

Wilson faced him. This was the moment of truth.

"Your scans show a cerebral embolism. You've had an ischemic stroke."

_Well duh._

House motioned with his left hand for Wilson to show him the scan film.

Wilson handed it over. House moved it closer and further from his eyes looking at it.

_Damn. Left my glasses in my desk. _

House saw the blockage. There was the clot in the cerebellum on the right side of his brain. He had expected to find it. He looked up at Wilson.

"The bus," Wilson said quietly.

Ya think?

House was angry with himself. How could he have been so stupid?

I should have anticipated this. I should have had Coumadin or another blood thinner the moment I had the migraine. It was a warning sign and I didn't see it!

House put the scan down and indicated he wanted to write something.

Wilson gave House the little whiteboard and the marker. He was waiting for House to blame him for this. Wilson had insisted that House under go electrical stimulation of his temporal lobe.

It was as if House were reading his mind.

'Not your fault.'

Wilson read the board and shook his head.

"I should never have put you through direct brain stimulation."

_You were grief stricken and clutching at straws. I suggested the procedure._

House tapped the board with the marker.

"You're trying to absolve me of my guilt."

That doesn't sound like me. I've had a stroke not a personality replacement.

House wrote on the board again.

'Moron'

"That's the House I know and love."

House blinked once.

Don't get all mushy. I blush easily.

"And this had nothing to do with your leg."

House blinked twice.

"A coincidence," Wilson said wonderingly. "You have got to have the worst karma of anyone I know."

_You have no idea. I can still feel pain in my thigh. How's that for unlucky?_

He took the marker and wrote on the board.

'Thigh hurts'

Wilson looked at him, a pained expression on his face. This was unfair. Maybe God really did hate House.

"I'm so sorry."

House ignored him.

He felt like his body was fighting against him. How could he defend himself from himself? Maybe it was fruitless to try. He recalled the hallucination of riding on a pure white bus with Amber. He was sorry he ever got off.

A black depression descended on him. One tear escaped to slid down his cheek.

Wilson had seen House low before. Now he was seeing his best friend devastated. He wanted to help. He knew that depression was detrimental to healing. That was a proven fact in medicine. He cast his mind around for something to distract House. He rubbed the back of his neck thinking.

"Did you know Taub is having an affair?" Wilson asked casually.

Well that's relevant to my situation. Shall we discuss the damn weather next?

"Yeah after all that posturing and swearing he loved his wife. He left with that cute blond nurse he's been hanging around."

_Who the hell cares?_

"You know what that makes him right?"

House blinked twice.

"A wandering Jew."

He smirked and in spite of himself House snorted while quirking his mouth up at the corners.

"Do that again!" Wilson demanded.

_Why?_

"House try to smile again."

_I moved my mouth?_

"You moved your mouth. Do it again."

_I guess I did._

House tried as hard as he could. His mouth tweaked up at the corners.

"Yes!" Wilson exclaimed.

House wrote on the board again.

'I did it?'

"Greg House can do anything," Wilson answered grinning.

The dark cloud lifted. House felt more like himself and a little bit hopeful.

Lisa Cuddy walked hurriedly into the room.

"What's happening? I heard you clear down the hall," she said addressing Wilson.

"Show her," Wilson answered his earlier irritation with her forgotten with House's success.

_How about a little dignity for crippled stroke guy? I'm not a show dog._

House raised the corners of his mouth.

_Ruff ruff._

Cuddy's mouth opened. She leaned in closer.

House opened his eyes wider.

_Hello girls. Daddy's missed you. _

Cuddy realized where House was looking. She straightened up. Then something caught her attention.

"Well there's nothing wrong with your libido I see."

_Nope. Fired up and ready to go._

He became aware of where Cuddy was looking. He flicked his eyes down toward his thighs.

I'll be damned. The equipment still works! That's great, I was afraid Wilson would have to be my surrogate. Or Taub, he does have experience.

Cuddy smiled.

"This is good," she said smiling.

You bet it is. Want to try it out?

Wilson handed Cuddy the scan results. She looked them over.

"The bus accident. We told you to rest but would you listen? You're not immortal you know."

And yet I keep coming back. Maybe I should start a religion? Saint Gregory. No that's taken. Saint House. Nope. That sounds like a homeless shelter.

"You just have to do anything to solve the puzzle and damn the consequences," she huffed.

If you've come here to nag the least you can do is take off your bra and anything else that will gain my attention.

"You always put yourself at risk. My other doctors don't try to kill themselves. Why can't you be more like them?"

You can't tell but I'm yawning.

"House our liability on you alone is more than triple the cost of anyone else in the building."

Enough woman! Either strip off or leave me. We are not amused.

"House are you listening to me?"

Not since you took the 'twins' away.

House blinked twice. He couldn't help himself.

"I give up," Cuddy said in frustration. She turned and looked at Wilson who shook his head.

Keep talking. I can outlast you. In fact right now it's the chief weapon in my arsenal.

She looked at the scan again.

"Surgery to remove the clot or medication?" Cuddy said addressing House.

Inwardly he frowned. That dark feeling was returning.

The last time I had surgery to remove a clot it didn't work out so well for me.

"Surgery," Wilson answered from behind her. "Do you concur Dr. House?"

House took a deep breath and blinked once then took the marker and wrote.

'Foreman Chase Taub'

Wilson looked surprised.

"I get Foreman and Chase. Why Taub?"

House wrote again.

'Plastic surgeon - Sexier scar.'

Wilson put a mock serious look on his face. He placed his hands on his hips and nodded.

"Of course. Since your hair is thinning you'll need it. Maybe he could sew some of Chase's up there? "

House wrote something on the board that made Cuddy turn her head.

"I think that's physically impossible but well worth watching," she snickered.

Wilson looked over at it. Then looked at House.

"Yeah and the horse you rode in on."

Okay if you've got a horse. Though you might want to start with a pony and work your way up.

Cuddy brought the conversation back around to the medicine.

"You want the surgery and you've chosen the team. Who do you want to do the anesthesia?"

House wrote.

'Not Chambers!'

"Okay how about Green?"

House considered for a moment.

'Thomason'

Cuddy looked puzzled. "He's brand new here."

Exactly. I haven't pissed him off yet.

House drew a line through the name and wrote.

'Wilson'

"Are you sure?" Wilson said uncomfortably. "It's not my specialty."

House tapped his name with the marker making his choice clear.

If you screw this up I'll never borrow money from you again so try not to kill me.

"Okay. But Thomason might be the wiser choice."

'Want you there'

"I'll be there," Wilson answered solemnly.

"So will I," Cuddy promised taking his hand.

Slowly but deliberately House took his hand from Cuddy. He blinked twice.

She looked at House hurt and confused.

"If that's what you want," she said quietly.

That's what I want.

In spite of being able to move his mouth slightly he was angry and depressed again. He hoped he would regain movement on the right side of his body. But what if he didn't? Was the damage too extensive for him to come back from?

God sucks! Why do this to me!? Don't you have other people to torment? How about Lucas!

He didn't know why he thought that. Yes he did. He was looking at the reason in a tight skirt and low cut top. He closed his eyes.

Don't go there House. She's made her choice and it isn't you. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let her spill concern and caring all over me only to yank it away when I'm in a wheelchair, if I'm lucky.

House wiped the whiteboard on the cotton blanket leaving black streaks. He wrote three words and underlined them for emphasis.

'NO MIDDLE GROUND'

This time I wake up with no surprises. My body belongs to me!

He was so angry. His eyes burned. He knew deep deep down he blamed Cuddy for suggesting to Stacy the removal of part of his right thigh muscle. He never said it to her. He suppressed it.

He focused his resentment on Stacy. She didn't honor his wishes. She let fear dictate her actions. He had loved her. He had trusted her. Now trust was something he gave to few people, maybe only one.

Cuddy quietly left the room.

He still blames me for his leg. I had to tell Stacy about the alternative procedure. It would have been irresponsible not to. I'm sorry it left him in pain. I'm sorry it changed his life. But the outcome might have been his death.

Wilson slid the door open and joined her outside. He closed it and fixed her with a look.

"Are you his proxy?"

"No," Cuddy answered. "On his paperwork under proxy it says 'self'."

"Can you blame him?"

She crossed her arms and cast her eyes to the floor. Her mouth became a thin line.

"No."

Wilson sighed.

"He's scared. He's worried the condition might be permanent."

"I can understand that. It's just… This isn't my fault."

"Of course it isn't," Wilson said soothingly. "House knows that."

"He hates me because of his leg. He always has. I was just too self deceiving to see it."

"No, he doesn't hate you. In fact quite the opposite."

Cuddy looked at Wilson disbelieving.

"House loves me? That can't be possible. He's never said it. He's certainly never shown it."

"Yes he has in small ways. He has in his way. Showing emotion is hard for him."

"Why? Why is it harder for him than anyone else? Other people hurt, love and laugh. Why not House?"

Wilson looked sternly at her.

"Do you think he doesn't hurt? Do you think he never laughs? Can you honestly say he didn't love? Do you think he's incapable of it?"

Cuddy swallowed and looked chastised. Wilson lowered his voice.

"The problem isn't with House but the people around him. His father, Stacy, they hurt him in ways that have left permanent scars. It's built up like armor keeping others out."

Cuddy nodded. She felt horrible for what she said. Of course House felt emotions. He locked them up inside him. Caring hurt. Loving people hurt. Best to keep people at arms length for your own protection.

The realization hit her suddenly. Is that what she was doing with House? Was she keeping him away for fear House would hurt her.

It was ironic. Wilson was trying to protect House from Cuddy hurting him. Where did the truth lie?

Wilson was looking closely at Cuddy. What was she thinking? Her eyes were soft and there was a little frown on her lips.

Did she really care about House? No, Wilson decided. If she did she wouldn't be with Lucas. House trying to break them up wasn't a game for his own amusement. If she couldn't see that then she had no business hanging over him now.

"You need to make a commitment," Wilson said firmly. "You can't give him your affections when his future is in doubt and take them away when he's better. This time he might not recover from the stroke or you."

Wilson turned away and reentered the room. He slid the door closed with Cuddy still standing there.

House looked at Wilson and wrote on the whiteboard.

'Protecting me?'

Wilson shrugged slightly.

"We were just talking."

House wrote again.

'Liar'

Wilson tightened his mouth and tipped his head.

"It's my job as best friend. Don't you ride in on a white horse to protect me whether I need it or not?"

'Payback?'

Wilson grinned.

"Yeah, it is. What're you going to do about it?" Wilson asked with mock defiance.

House snorted a laugh. He turned the edges of his mouth up and wrote.

'Ass'

Wilson chuckled.

"Yes but I'm the ass who sees to it that they puree you something tasty to eat and you're complaining?"

House wiped the board on his blanket. Then wrote again.

'Nope'

"That's better," Wilson said with satisfaction.

House wrote something rude on the board.

Wilson leaned over to read it.

"Cuddy's right. That _is_ physically impossible."

House closed his eyes and snorted again. This was as close to laughing as he could get.

Cuddy walked slowly down the hall. She didn't notice anyone. She made her way through the hospital without thought. Her feet knew where she was going even if she didn't.

Wilson had said House cared for her. He had also said that House might not recover from the stroke. That was inconceivable. House was strong. He was a force of nature.

But he was vulnerable too. He hurt and some days it was more than he could bear.

And that is why Wilson protected him.

Protected him from me.

She had never considered her attention to House when he needed it as anything more than a friend caring about another friend. It didn't mean she loved him. It showed affection, yes. But it wasn't a promise of a relationship. If what Wilson had said was true then House had misread her intentions. She did not want a relationship with him.

She had at one time, she admitted to herself. When they were in college. He walked away without a word. She thought later that is was for the best. She was a serious student with goals she was determined to achieve.

She had looked for him on campus. Not a search but glances around the library when she was studying in case he walked in. A casual glance around the student lounge, an eye sweep at lectures. Finally she stopped looking.

He came and he went.

She smiled sadly at the truth in that joke.

Cuddy was stopped at the clinic. With House unable to work and Wilson unwilling to leave him they were short two doctors. Should doctor Wilson be told to do his clinic hours? That wasn't even an option. House needed him.

More than he needs me.

"Page Doctors Taub and Henley. They can fill in," she told Brenda.

She knew that Foreman and Chase would be called to House's room to discuss his surgery. House would write what he wanted them to do. He would be fully in charge of his own case.

Just like he should have been with his infarction.

She felt guilty again. She told herself for the thousandth time it wasn't her fault. Stacy had taken over the direction of care as his proxy. She had done it legally. She had not done it ethically. House had been confident in his decision.

Cuddy hadn't been there when House woke up to find part of his leg missing. She wasn't there to see his shock and agony.

Wilson was.

She was there when House was sullen and seething within. When he tried to accept what had happened. When he tried so hard to walk without assistance. She saw him fail and try again. She saw him draw away from Stacy.

Just like he is doing with me now.

Cuddy signed off on the duty sheet adding Taub and Thirteen. She handed it to Brenda and walked away.

She went to her office and sat behind her desk. She ran her hand through her hair.

She knew she would be in the observation room when House had his surgery. She couldn't stay away. How could she not be there? No matter what Wilson said. And House wouldn't know.

Why do I want so badly to be there?

"He's my friend," she answered herself. "I should be upset by what's happened to him. I should want to support him. I should be there. It doesn't mean I want him in my bed. He's been there before and it didn't lead to anything."

We have pushed each other for years. Why would Wilson think that House was serious now? The only thing that House has said is he wants Lucas and I to break up. Well he did say that he hoped Karma would reward him and Lucas would die, but that was just House being glib. It was suppose to shock me and amuse him.

Cuddy looked up and saw Taub and Thirteen walking by her office. They both looked in wearing expressions she thought were accusing.

This is ridiculous. Why should I feel guilty? I wasn't responsible for the bus crash. I tried to make him rest. He wouldn't do it. He did every stupid thing he could think of to force himself to remember what he'd seen.

She had stayed beside him after the seizure. No one had objected. House had not awaken later and told her to leave.

"That was before Lucas," she murmured unsolicited.

She needed to clear her thoughts. In college when her mind was cluttered she would prioritize. It was a little trick that helped her to calmly make decisions.

I'm the mother of a small child. I'm the head of this hospital and everything that happens here is my responsibility. I'm a woman in her forties who frankly isn't getting any younger. I want stability. I need to count on the person I have a relationship with. I need someone to help me raise Rachel. I need someone to share my life with.

Lucas was there. He was reliable. He adored Rachel. He helped Cuddy with her. He listened when she talked about her day and the different issues that came up at the hospital. He was a bit younger than she but that made her feel younger too. Lucas shared her bed. She came home to him and he came home to her.

Do I love him?

He was a nice guy. He was good in bed. Not great. She had great years ago. Sometimes in the scheme of things 'great' was overrated.

Do I love him?

This time she wasn't thinking of Lucas.

She closed her eyes exhaling deeply.

Yes.

He went into the bedroom and opened the closet pulling out jeans, shirts and a pair of Nikes. He moved to the dresser and opened the lower drawer taking out boxers and sock.

The sports bag was on the bed. Everything went inside. He looked around. Had he forgotten anything? His phone charger was plugged into the wall by the nightstand. He unplugged it and placed it inside the bag.

He pulled out his cell and called the hospital. The phone was answered at the other end.

"I'm going to go for a while. Give you some space."

"I don't need space."

"Yes you do. You need to think. You need to decide what you want."

"I want you," she said her voice flat.

"I'll be around. You can call me when you're ready."

"We should be together. It makes sense."

"Yeah. But I'd rather be the one who has emotion and not logic on his side."

"That isn't who you think it is," she said softly and without much conviction.

"Yeah it is."

Neither spoke. For a full minute the line was silent.

"Lisa, I'm here if you ever just want to talk. Besides being a great guy I'm a great listener."

She smiled.

"You are a great guy."

"Just not the guy."

"You might be." She sounded hopeful.

"So is the other guy. He may be an ass but I like him and he pays well."

"Yes, that's quite a friendship you two have."

"It works for us. He tells me what to do and I tell him how much."

"He doesn't want me around."

"That's seriously bad for me."

"How?"

"Only a guy who really feels something for a woman doesn't want her around when he's in pain."

"I don't think so."

"Of course you don't. It isn't logical. It doesn't make sense."

"No."

"Lady love isn't something that can be explained through science or mathematics. Love is something that has to be felt, experienced and lived." He softened his voice to a near whisper. "You need to live Lisa. Throw away the calendars, planners and schedules. Just live in the moment for a while."

"I don't know how," she said her voice cracking.

"That's why I'm going. You need to learn. You won't with me around. Go to dinner with a friend. Go to a bar. Play pinball at an arcade. Join a bowling league. Just get out there and find something that makes no sense at all. It's the nonsense that makes people happy."

Cuddy was quiet. She couldn't talk. She didn't know what she would say if she could.

"I'm just a phone call away if you really need me."

"Thank you."

"And don't listen to him. Go hold his hand. Don't supervise his care. Just be there. It's what he wants."

He hung up the phone walking down the hall as he did so. He stepped into the living room and gave the sitter a card with his cell number. He picked up Rachel and gave her a kiss.

Lucas opened the door and walked away.

"Are you tired?"

House blinked once.

"You look it. You're eyelids are drooping."

House eyed Wilson. The edges of his mouth curled. He took the whiteboard and wrote.

'Jerk'

"No that's what I call you."

He wrote again.

'Ass.'

"Again one of my pet names for you."

'Bitch.'

"Yes, that would be one of your words of endearment."

Wilson you really are a pain in the ass. I'm glad you're here.

Chase had been lurking outside the room. Foreman would be there soon. Of all House's fellows Chase was the most concerned about his boss. Wilson had wondered for a few years if Chase saw House as a father figure now that his own father was dead. House had the authority not the age. Chase had spent more time with House than he had ever spent with his own dad. A fact not lost on House.

House gave him a bad time. He gave all of his fellows hell. But Chase had grown a lot during these years with him. He even left the surgical team to return to House. How many doctors in this hospital would have done that?

Wilson looked over at House. His eyes were closed.

He's exhausted. He didn't sleep well last night. Would anyone?

Foreman joined Chase outside the room. Wilson motioned them in. Chase slid the door open and they entered quietly with deference to the man lying with his eyes closed upon the bed.

"Should we come back in a while?" Chase asked quietly.

"No. This needs to get done now, " Wilson said as quietly as Chase.

"His chance for recovery is greater the sooner the obstruction is removed," Foreman stated nodding.

Wilson looked at House. His eyes were still closed but there was something about the way House was breathing.

Wilson whispered softly.

"Oh my God look at the rack on the new nurse."

House popped one eye open wide.

"He was faking?" Chase said incredulously.

"All the better to eavesdrop Goldilocks," Foreman chuckled.

House blinked once.

Wilson chuckled and Chase rolled his eyes.

"All right," Foreman said to the man on the bed. "What do you want us to do?"


	10. Chapter 10

The Queen Of Hearts

Chapter 10

House was beginning to feel drowsy. He could see Chase standing over him. He knew Foreman was near by preparing to open his head.

Just don't take anything out that you shouldn't. Oh, and don't leave anything in you that you shouldn't. I want a sponge count when you've finished.

Foreman was talking to Chase. House couldn't make out what they were saying. He was getting very tired and barely able to keep his eyes open.

Foreman is probably telling Chase he'll be calling him 'boss' in about an hour. Nothing doing dawg, I'll be back ridiculing you all as soon as I think up more adjectives. Let's see, moronic, idiotic, asinine…

House was fading fast.

He saw only two things before oblivion took him. The first was Wilson masked and smiling with his eyes.

"You'd better be right about this surgery. I'd hate to have to sell all your stuff."

Craigslist? My 1967 Flying V should fetch a lot. Wait! What the hell am I thinking! Don't sell a thing!

The last was a familiar person standing at the window of the gallery. She had long dark hair, a narrow skirt and a low cut top.

_The Queen of Hearts has come to see her Knave._

House stopped being aware of anything.

When he opened his eyes he was in Recovery. Wilson was there with him.

"House? House can you hear me? The surgery went well. Foreman removed the obstruction. Do you understand me?"

House groggily blinked once.

His throat was so dry. He wished he could have some water or ice chips.

"We're going to move you back to your room before long. As soon as we do I'll get you some ice."

Wilson isn't a doctor for nothing. It's nice to have a friend who anticipates your needs.

House indicated that he wanted to sit up a bit. Wilson raised the head of the gurney. He settled himself as comfortably as possible.

"Do you want another pillow?" Wilson asked.

House blinked once. Wilson provided one for him.

I could get used to this. I want the new Meatloaf album. It would speed my recovery. Can you get me that?

House glanced around the room. He was coming fully out of the anesthesia now. Not feeling any pain, which was good. House always believed pain was something best avoided. He looked toward Wilson.

Good old Wilson. What would I do without him?

Not for the first time, House was grateful for a best friend who was always there when he needed him.

Unless I drive him away.

He looked at Wilson and then looked just past him.

House saw brown hair, an arm and a nice pair of legs. The person connected to the legs was talking with Foreman. Foreman looked back at House and nodded. House didn't like that Foreman was talking to the nice pair of legs about him. He was sure he knew those legs. He didn't want to see their owner now.

"House is something wrong?" Wilson asked in concern.

House blinked twice.

"No there's something bothering you. I know that look," Wilson said skeptically.

_A 'look'! What 'look'? I have a 'look'? Where's that mirror you promised?_

Wilson glanced back over his shoulder.

"Cuddy's here. Is that what's bothering you?"

House did nothing for a moment. He looked back past Wilson.

Cuddy was alone. She looked in at House with a hopeful expression.

House turned his eyes away.

He blinked once then closed them.

Wilson looked back over his shoulder. He shook his head at her. 'No' he mouthed.

Cuddy looked crestfallen. She turned from the door and walked away.

Wilson watched her go and felt bad for her. This wasn't Cuddy's fault. She couldn't help she was in a relationship with someone who wasn't House. Wilson wished it _were_ with his best friend. It's what House wanted even if he didn't know it himself.

House and Cuddy were ships that collided in the night. They were bad for each other in an 'oh so good' way. But how do you steer two people straight at each other? A collision of that magnitude could do a lot of damage.

And right now House wasn't strong enough.

House looked up at the ceiling.

I don't want her here. I can't have her here. Not now. Not when she's with Lucas.

Wilson touched House's arm lightly.

"She's worried about you."

I don't need her to kiss my boo boos. If I needed that I'd have you call my mom. Besides Cuddy doesn't want me. She's made that clear.

House closed his eyes again indicating the discussion was at an end.

Wilson looked up and saw an orderly approaching.

"We're taking you back to your room now. You can get some rest once we get you settled," he told House.

The orderly took the gurney and moved it out of Recovery and down the hall. Wilson followed quickly.

_How is it these guys can move so fast pushing one of those things?_

They got into one of the large elevators and on their way to the fourth floor while Wilson caught his breath.

"I really need to work out more," he gulped.

House heard Wilson panting.

I meant to point out the way you've been eating. Not a greasy fry or soda in sight. Who can stay healthy on lean meat and vegetables?

The elevator dinged to announce their arrival on the fourth floor. The orderly pushed the gurney out of the elevator and down the hall. Wilson decided to walk at a normal pace this time. It wasn't as if House was going very far.

He was a little surprised to find Taub and Thirteen outside the room. Taub had his hands in his pockets and a look on his face saying he wasn't sure how to feel. Maybe he was worried. Whether it was for his job or House, Wilson wasn't sure.

Thirteen just looked concerned. She followed the gurney into the room.

Taub waited outside to talk to Wilson.

"How is he?"

"He's good," Wilson sighed. "Foreman said it went smoothly."

Taub nodded. "Foreman's good."

"Yeah he is. He'd make a good boss," Wilson said baiting Taub.

Taub laughed slightly.

"He'd be an insufferable ass. Kind of like what we have now."

Wilson stood a little straighter. He was about to come to the defense of House.

Taub sensed Wilson's irritation. He thought it would be wise to stick his finger in the dam.

"House is the best in his field. No one's better. I came here to learn from him not Foreman. If there's even a small chance House will be running his department again then I'd be a fool to go somewhere else."

"Yes, you would. You'd also be unemployed," Wilson stated matter-of-factly.

Taub smiled.

"There is that," he agreed.

Wilson smiled and shook his head. Taub was a worm. His own self-preservation was his highest law. So why did Wilson actually like the guy? Maybe it was because House found him interesting. Or perhaps he liked his honesty. Whatever it was Wilson allowed him access to House's room.

House was moved from the gurney to the bed. He scooched over using his left leg and arm. His two fellows gave him help.

Wilson nearly laughed when he saw House trying to keep his modesty in front of Thirteen. Wilson was sure House didn't realize he was trying to keep the gown closed in front or keep it from riding up. Given the opportunity House would have dropped his pants in front of her during a diagnostic meeting. Funny what lay in the subconscious.

House was settling in. The monitors were working and House's heartbeat was strong. The blood oxygen lead was clipped to his finger.

He was blinking 'no' repeatedly to a nurse who wanted to insert a catheter.

Please madame I have some pride no matter how small. Wait. That sounded bad even in my head.

"House unless you can make it to the bathroom on your own a catheter is necessary," Wilson said sympathetically.

"I'll do it for you," Thirteen volunteered in a sultry voice.

Well that just made the path straighter. But as tempting as that offer is I fear I must decline. Strenuously.

Wilson looked at the nurse.

"Leave it for now. I'll help him."

Why Wilson I didn't realize how much you cared. I thank you on behalf of myself and 'little Greg'.

Taub and Thirteen remained for a while not sure of what to do. They didn't have a case at the moment even though Foreman was looking for one. Chase had been 'scrubbing in' to some surgeries just to keep himself busy.

They both shared pleasant and boring chatter with Wilson and then mercifully left so House could get some rest.

Alone at last Wilson. Gawd I thought they'd never leave! Now what weren't we talking about?

"You need some rest. Try and sleep," Wilson urged House.

Oh all right. But I want to watch cartoons when I wake up mommy.

House closed his eyes. He reached up with his left hand and scratched the bandage on his head.

"Leave it alone or I'll put mittens on you," Wilson ordered.

It itches.

House closed his eyes. He really was tired.

He was asleep in minutes.

James Wilson sat in a chair. He put up his feet on the bed just as House would have done. He was deep in thought.

Wilson was worried. Not about the surgery or even House's prognosis. He was determined to believe that House would come out all right. That wasn't what bothered him.

It was the pain post-surgery. House was going to have a headache for a few days. It wasn't the amount of pain medication it was the type that worried Wilson. Ibuprofen wasn't going to help. Any opiate-based medication might start House back on the road to addiction.

Wilson rubbed his forehead. He suspected what House would want and Wilson couldn't blame him. Headache and leg pain would make him very uncomfortable not to mention incredibly irritable. It would slow his recovery. House needed to have physical therapy as soon as possible.

So what was the answer? To let House suffer in pain or risk him returning to the addiction that caused his hallucinations?

Wilson took the coward's way out. He would leave it up to House. It was his mind and body. He was directing his own care. It was his decision.

We can help him detox here, gradually. I'll help him at home. He doesn't want to go back through the nightmare again. He'll get help and support this time.

Wilson relaxed and closed his eyes.

Cuddy had no direction. She didn't know where to go. She didn't know what to do. Her world had been turned upside down.

First Lucas leaves me and now House doesn't want me around. Am I that bad? What is it I do that drives men away?

She knew the answer to the question; she was indecisive. She knew what she wanted even though she needed something else.

How can I want something I don't need? How is that fair?

It wasn't, she decided. It was far from fair and there were three people all messed up in it.

And neither of them wants to be with me.

She was walking to the cafeteria. She didn't know why. The last thing she felt like doing was eating. She didn't want to go back to her office. She couldn't be where she wanted to be. The cafeteria was a good place to hide.

Cuddy bought an apple just to have something to do with her hands. She turned wondering where she would sit. Across the room she saw Chase sitting alone eating a late breakfast or an early lunch. She went over to his table.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

Chase was surprised but welcoming.

"No. Please sit down," he said graciously.

Cuddy smoothed her skirt and sat opposite him.

Chase eyed the apple.

"Is that all you're having?"

"Not really hungry," Cuddy said a sad note in her voice.

Chase took the conversation right where Cuddy didn't want to go.

"House did great."

"Yes he did didn't he?"

"I'll bet he's back to mocking all of us really soon."

"I hope so," Cuddy said absentmindedly.

Chase took a bite of a roast beef sandwich. He chewed and swallowed washing it down with a sip from a covered cup through a straw.

"You worried he won't make a full recovery?"

"No."

"Yeah you are," Chase said shrewdly.

Cuddy began to back pedal.

"He's my employee and an asset to the hospital," she stated in the practiced way she always used to explain her concern for House. "He's my friend," she added awkwardly.

"You like him," Chase said with a grin.

"Of course I like him. We've known each other for years."

"You're being evasive. You _like_ him like him."

Cuddy thought a change of subject was needed.

"Have you heard from Cameron?"

Chase lost his smile.

"She's doing all right. She called the other night. Said her folks were doing well."

Cuddy rested her head on her hand. The apple lay forgotten on the table.

"How do you do it?"

"How do I do what?' Chase asked perplexed.

"How do you get past losing someone you wanted so much?"

Chase took another sip from the straw.

"You don't," he said seriously.

Cuddy excused herself saying she had a meeting with maintenance.

Chase watched her go. She left the apple on the table. Chase picked it up. He held it in his hand then tossed it and caught it on a whim.

She's in love with House.

He picked up his tray and slipped the apple in the pocket of his lab coat.


	11. Chapter 11

Just a note here: The best deli on earth is at Katz's Manhattan or Austin. You will not find a better Reuben sandwich on the planet. Please take no offense when for this fiction I say that House was refused service at Katz's. It wouldn't have happened. So, _hak mir nicht in tchainik arain. _

The Queen Of Hearts

Chapter 11

House was feeling better. Feeling was the operative word. He had experienced some tingling in his right hand. That was good. He still couldn't move the right side of his body. That was bad.

_Maybe if I can get Thirteen to pole dance I'll feel tingly all over. Where can I get a pole?_

Wilson came into the room. He had spent all of his free time with House. For that House was grateful. He had been experiencing some bouts of depression. He hadn't expected the surgery to work right off but a little part of him did. There was a flicker of hope that wanted to believe he would be getting out of bed as good as new. It was silly of him. Had he been his own patient he would have chastised himself for even thinking of it.

_Physician do not lie to thyself._

He thought again.

_Everybody lies. Why should I be any different?_

Wilson stared.

"Oh my God. You did it! You smiled!"

_You're kidding! Did you bring that damn mirror?_

Wilson reached in the pocket of his lab coat. He pulled out a mirror. House took it in his left hand. He stared into it. There was nothing to see.

"House just smile. Just do whatever you did. Think of something funny."

_You, proposing to me in that damn restaurant. I could have killed you but it was a great_ _stunt. Touché Wilson._

House looked in the mirror. The edges of his mouth did nothing.

_Maybe it was funnier at the time._

Wilson looked disappointed. He thought for a moment his hands dug deep into his coat pockets.

"You know Taub has been flirting with your transvestite date."

House snorted a laugh and then it happened. He saw a definite smile on his face.

"There ya go," Wilson said triumphantly.

_Well you mention Taub and I can't help but laugh. It's the 'little' things that crack me up._

House didn't know why such a small thing like smiling would elate him. It wasn't a big accomplishment but he did have a joyous feeling inside. He decided to take his newfound mouth for a test drive. Maybe he could do more with it.

He pointed at the water picture on the left side of his bed. Wilson looked at him.

"You sure you want to try this?" he asked skeptically.

House blinked once.

_Yep. Bring it on._

Wilson poured some into the cup and unwrapped a straw. He put the straw into the cup and handed it to House. House took it in his left hand and brought it to his lips. He took the straw in his mouth and did nothing with it. Wilson looked at him.

"You've only just had the surgery this morning. Give yourself some time."

_I'm just not motivated enough._

His mind wandered to Cuddy. He thought of her body, her curves, and her perfect…

He sucked water into his mouth and swallowed.

_I knew I could do this. I just needed the right stimulus._

"House! You drank water!" Wilson exclaimed.

_I know. I was there when I did it._

"Try to say something!"

House was a little nervous. He was able to control some of his muscle movements but talking was a big step. He didn't want to feel depressed now that he felt so good. He thought about what his first words should be after suffering a stroke. They should be clever. They should be profound. They should have deep meaning.

"I hate that damn tie," he croaked to Wilson.

Wilson smiled so wide he looked like the Cheshire cat. He fiddled with his tie.

"You really hate it? I thought daisies were due for a come back. Besides a patient gave it to me."

"Then promptly died and rightly so," House croaked again.

"Nope," Wilson answered. "This one's in remission. Just came by for a follow up."

"And still stuck you with that?" House said his voice growing stronger.

Wilson looked down at the tie.

"I'm told it's a classic," Wilson said defensively.

"Yeah in 1968," House replied.

Someone at the door interrupted their banter. Lisa Cuddy walked in smiling.

"Did I just hear House speaking?" she asked happily.

"What do you think of this tie?" Wilson asked her.

Cuddy ignored him and approached the bed.

"Yup," House answered smiling. "Used verbs and everything." He raised his left eyebrow roguishly. "I was just thinking of you."

"And you're smiling! That's great!" She exclaimed. "It won't be long before you're walking and annoying Foreman again," she said delighted.

House let the smile slip from his face. Cuddy had just hit on his deepest concern. Would he regain the use of his right leg? He didn't want to think about being confined to a wheelchair. He knew he could manipulate one because he spent an entire day in a chair to win a bet. But being confined to one for the rest of his life? Even with the constant pain, House liked that he could walk.

Suddenly House didn't want Cuddy around him. He was depressed again. He didn't need Cuddy with her 'Lucas love' so near him.

_Take your merry sunshine and shove it._

House dismissed her.

"Don't you have some papers to shuffle or linens to count?"

Cuddy looked surprised and then hurt by what he said. He had been like his old self and now he was angry with her again. What was this?

"You're probably tired. I'll come back later," she said hoping it was the case.

"You don't need to. Wilson is here to entertain me and you have more important things to do," House snarled.

"I really don't," Cuddy answered softly. "There isn't anything more important in this hospital than you."

"Because I'm the one solving the cases no one else can. I'm an asset to the hospital," he said bitterly.

Cuddy was rocked back on her heels. House knew he was a big reason Princeton Plainsboro was so successful. It was one of the reasons she gave him leeway. But he never threw it back in her face like this.

"Yes you're an asset to this hospital. But you're also a friend. I want you to get better. I want to see you happy."

_Then dump the boy-toy._

"I'm tired," he lied.

House closed his eyes. He was angry. How dare she walk into his room and tell him she wanted him to be happy.

She comes in here telling me she wants me to be happy. She acts as if she cares. She'll stop as soon as I'm doing better. 'House is on the mend. He doesn't need my phony kindness any more.' Screw her.

Cuddy looked at Wilson. He gave her a small shake of his head telling her he didn't know what just happened either. She looked vulnerable. House had wounded her. All she wanted to do was offer him her support as he struggled to get well. It wasn't fair but House made the rules. He was the one fighting against this debilitation and he decided who were his allies. For now it wasn't Cuddy.

She walked quietly from the room. She looked back as she reached the sliding door.

When is he going to stop punishing me? I didn't cause this. He came to me for help. He must have needed me. He was in my office when his leg was killing him.

She thought about that as she walked through the door and down the hall away from House's room.

His leg was killing him.

It hadn't been the first time. She hoped for his sake it would be the last. He was trying to survive without painkillers. He went to Cuddy's office when he couldn't stand the pain any more. Was it because it was closest or because he needed her?

With nowhere to go and no place to be she walked the corridors of the hospital nodding and smiling to employees. She stopped to answer questions and chat briefly but her mind was elsewhere.

He hates me. I care about him. How am I going to fix this?

That was Lisa Cuddy. If something wasn't working or up to standard she tried to fix it. If there wasn't enough money in the budget for equipment she crunched numbers and made small changes to get what was needed. She avoided labor shortages by making compromises. She juggled a career and a small child without either lacking. Cuddy was a clever woman. She could fix this. But maybe it was her fault.

Why haven't I told him how I feel about him?

She didn't want to think about that.

He said he was thinking of me when I came in his room.

She had been thinking of him. She had been thinking of him since she had found him suffering in her office.

Is that the only time I think of him? Is it only when he's in pain or making my job more difficult?

That couldn't be the only times she thought of him. No, she knew it wasn't. She dreamed of him. She remembered him in college. House was handsome, opinionated, arrogant, amazing and a great lover. She was smitten with him the moment he had spoken to her.

She still was.

It had nearly undone her when he was admitted to the hospital. He had come in with a lovely lady, a lawyer who was obviously his soul mate. Stacy had been living with him for five years. She knew him better than anyone, far better than Cuddy. He still gave Cuddy little shivers up her spine. He still had that quality. It was agony to see him in such horrible pain. Cuddy had to separate herself from being a woman who had cared so much for him and being his doctor. She was able to do so by reminding herself that what they had in college was a one-night stand. He never called her again and he was with someone else now.

He had been so angry after the operation to remove the dead thigh muscle. It wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't what he expected to discover when he woke up. He didn't know where to point his anger. He blamed Cuddy but ultimately he blamed Stacy. It broke them apart. No matter how deeply he tried to burry it he always felt betrayed.

House had nowhere to go and no one to be with. Cuddy had hired him because he was brilliant and because her young head of Oncology was pleading House's case. She relented and took House on as the head of the newly created Department Of Diagnostic Medicine. She hoped House would add more credibility to PPTH's reputation.

And I hired him because he still makes me tingle.

Cuddy tried very hard to dismiss the thought. She hadn't hired House because she wanted to have sex with him. She hired him because he was an amazing doctor. He had no bedside manner, he was crass, he was unorthodox, he was irritating, but he was still House. No one else would hire him. He was a pain in the ass to be around. He was in pain all the time. He was more than likely addicted to the pain meds he took.

Cuddy had scooped him up. She made it appear as if she was doing him a favor. He took the job. It was all he could have wanted. The pay was in line and he could pretty much do as he pleased.

Did House think I offered him the job because of his leg?

He probably did at first. Maybe still.

Did he think I gave him the job to get back into his pants?

He probably _didn't_ think about it at first. How ironic because the thought had crossed her mind more than once. House was hot. He was sexy. She loved his blue eyes and his unshaven face. He made love like no man she had ever been with before or after their tryst. He was certainly better than Lucas.

Lucas has stepped aside so I could have a chance with House. But will House give me a chance?

She found herself outside the cafeteria again but a peek inside told her it wasn't the place to be right now. There were members of the board around a table and she preferred not to be dragged into an impromptu meeting just now. She turned and made her way to the neonatal unit. She would sometimes look in at the babies who were born undersized and in distress. This made her focus on someone other than herself. She was grounded by her visits. It reminded her of why she became a doctor and how lucky she was to have a healthy child. Rachel could have been very sick. Her mother was a child herself. She had thought her baby was dead. A homeless couple had taken the best care they could of the baby they had found. Now she was Cuddy's child. She was Cuddy's light and her joy.

She put on a gown and mask and entered the room. These children had a chance. They could survive. She hoped they all did. They had care and medicine. She always thought of what would have happened to these tiny babies had they been born in third world countries. One in every five children in the world died from pneumonia and other diseases. This group in the NCIU were the ones that could be saved.

She gloved her hands and went to one incubator and slipped her hand inside. The little one took her finger. Cuddy's eyes filled with smiling tears.

House held the mirror and practiced moving his mouth. He told Wilson to get him a Reuben sandwich with a side of fries and a cola.

"I liked you better before you could talk," he grumbled smiling. "You were less a pain in the ass."

House made his eyes wide and spoke in a spooky singsong voice.

"I'm ba-ack," he said like Jack Nicholson in 'The Shinning'.

"I know. That's what scares me," Wilson replied semiseriously.

"Food. Cafeteria. Now!" House said in his gravely voice.

"Be nice or I won't get you ice cream," Wilson said as he went to the door.

House stuck out his tongue at the retreating back. Wilson left the room and House sighed.

"Alone at last with my thoughts. How depressing is that?"

He adjusted the bed, raising his feet to make himself more comfortable because his leg hurt. He reached up to scratch his head and stopped.

'_Leave the bandages alone House,'_ he could imagine Wilson saying.

He tried unsuccessfully to move his right foot. He forced himself to banish the demon telling him he would never regain the use of his leg again. The depression was raising its head once more. He wished Wilson would come back. House was hungry but mostly he wanted another person around him.

I'd even welcome Foreman right now. He could tell me how he could run my department better than I can.

The idea made him smirk. He looked up at the ceiling.

"Oh great power that be, smite Foreman with this terrible curse and leave me the hell alone. Is anybody up there? Am I coming in all right? Hello. God? Must be a bad connection," House said shrugging his left shoulder.

"You're not doing it right," Robert Chase said entering the room. He was smiling and shaking his head. "It's good to hear you talking. Or is it a curse?"

"Wilson already did that joke," House growled.

Chase sat himself in the chair by the bed.

"If you're going to pray then you have to mean it."

"I did mean it," House protested. "I really do want God to smite Foreman."

"Don't we all?" Chase asked.

House snorted a laugh.

Chase reached into his lab coat pocket.

"Got something for you."

He tossed something round which House caught deftly in his left hand.

"An apple for teacher?" House questioned.

"More like one from teacher."

"Cuddy?" House asked confused.

"She's got it bad. Teacher is hot for you," Chase said smirking.

"She has a substitute," House said flatly. He flipped the apple back to Chase. "School's out," he said firmly.

Chase left the room. House clearly didn't want to talk about Cuddy. He went back to the office conference room and picked up a magazine.

"Did you go see the boss?" Taub asked with mild curiosity.

"Yup," Chase answered without looking up.

"What's he doing?"

"Throwing apples."

"He's what?" Taub asked eager for more details.

Chase didn't answer. He smiled as he turned another page.

House was pissed. He didn't want Cuddy to come to him with tear filled eyes and tell him things he knew were untrue. She didn't love him. She might like him but that was as far as it went.

Chase had just given House an apple he said was from Cuddy. House had tossed it back. If Cuddy wanted to give House anything she should have done it herself. He wasn't teacher's pet by the longest stretch of the imagination. Teacher was keeping a boy home with her.

Wilson came in with a tray. Everything House had asked for was on it as well as a couple of warm chocolate chip cookies.

"I figured the ice cream would melt by the time you got to it," he said setting the tray down. He rolled the bed table over the bed and House.

"You got me cookies?" House asked delighted.

"To celebrate. Not because you've been a good boy," Wilson said in a parental voice.

House's eyes became unfocused for a moment.

_My Dad would never have given me anything for being good. It was expected._

He snapped out of the cheerless reminiscence and pointed at the sandwich.

"No pickles on this?"

"No pickles and dry the way you like it. Got you a large drink to choke it down," Wilson replied. "How can you eat those things?"

"'Jew' of all people should appreciate the qualities inherent in good deli," House replied taking a smaller than normal bite.

One thing the PPTH cafeteria could not be faulted for were their Reubens. The marble rye was tasty and the corned beef was lean and thinly sliced. They piled it on the bread and always prepared it the way House requested. He had heard from every deli he ever went to that a proper Reuben had sauerkraut and either Russian or Thousand Island dressing on it. It was served with a kosher pickle and no substitution would do. House always pointed out that he or more correctly Wilson was the one paying and that usually ended the discussion. He had only ever been turned out of one place, Katz's deli in lower Manhattan.

'Katz never closes' my ass. Then again maybe I over reacted. What a waste of an egg cream.

He took another bite and eyed Wilson who was watching as House ate. It made House a little uncomfortable. He knew Wilson was watching to see if House choked on the food. He would be prepared to swoop in like Super Doctor to save him before he turned blue. House held up half of the sandwich.

"Do you want some of this?"

"No I ate," Wilson answered.

"Good because I was being polite. You can't have any," House said taking a drink of soda.

"I am thunderstruck," Wilson said staggering a little for effect.

"Why because I won't let you have any of my sandwich?" House said taking another bite.

"You were being polite?" Wilson said emphasizing the last word for House's benefit.

"Oh yeah. That was quite a straight line I tossed you there. I must be slipping," House said with wonder.

"Well you've not been yourself lately," Wilson allowed stealing a French fry.

House went to swat Wilson's hand away. His left hand was full of sandwich so naturally he made the move with his right. And it did move. It wasn't more than an inch, but it moved!

House stared at his right hand.

Wilson took another fry just to irritate House. It was fun being the 'snitcher' rather than the 'snitchee' for a change. He was about to take another to get a reaction out of House when he saw House wasn't looking at him. His full attention was focused on the right side of his bed.

"What's wrong?" Wilson asked.

House spoke slowly and deliberately. "I moved my arm."

Wilson's eyes lit up. "You did? Do it again!"

House concentrated on his right arm. It trembled. He tried to lift it but it was as if it weighed a ton. He tried again and moved it a bit to the right. House looked up at Wilson expectantly as if he were eight and seeking praise.

"That's great!" Wilson exclaimed.

"I can do better. Take another fry," House told him.

"No thanks. I was just having fun. I'm really not hungry," Wilson said declining.

"Would you grab another damn fry!" House ordered.

"Okay okay don't get your bed pan in a bunch!" Wilson said reaching for the plate.

House let the idea flash in his mind, 'Slap Wilson's hand'! He jerked his right hand and it moved more than an inch this time.

House looked up triumphantly. "See!"

Wilson grinned. "I do indeed. I'll get you ice cream tonight for that."

"Chocolate chip?" House asked hopefully.

"Pistachio." Wilson said evilly.

"You wouldn't," House said in mock horror.

"Yes I would." Wilson answered with a wicked grin.

"Give the guy on the bed pan a break can'tcha?" House said round-eyed.

"Oh right, no nuts," Wilson said. "Maybe something a bit smoother would be easier on your system."

"Thank you." House said eyeing him suspiciously. "You are getting more and more like me. That's worrying," he remarked taking another bite of sandwich.

"I wonder why?" Wilson smirked taking another fry.

In her office Lisa Cuddy sat at her desk. She didn't have anything to do for the next twenty minutes, a rare treat. She decided to make herself a small cup of espresso. She could use the caffeine before a boring meeting with the couple who gave the hospital a large donation. It would be the usual, name a wing after their great-great grandfather or other such demand. She would have to smile and softly say 'sorry but we can place a plaque on the wall'.

If every person who gave us money asked for a wing to be named after themselves or some long dead relative we'd be Joe's Hospital instead of Princeton Plainsboro.

As she made the coffee she tried to ignore where the machine had come from. She tried but failed miserably. This espresso machine was the best money could buy.

I wonder how much this set House back or was it Wilson?

And there it was, she was thinking of House again. That was the trouble about working in the same hospital with him for years. Everywhere she looked reminded her of something he had said or done. Everyone she looked at reminded her of him since nearly everyone in the hospital had complained about him at one time or another. House had a way of getting to people. He certainly got to Cuddy.

He gets to me too much.

She wondered how he was doing, if there was any improvement. Wilson would fill her in. He was mad at her to start with but he knew that she was worried. They had been friends a long time the three of them.

She took a sip and tried not to think about Wilson's warnings. She wasn't going to profess undying love for House! How could Wilson think that? Had she ever done or said anything to make House think she wanted him. They had a kidding friendship. They used double entendres because it was fun. He spoke about her womanly attributes and she made remarks about his manhood. It was flirting and joking and it was all just for fun. None of it had any meaning. It couldn't. He was her employee.

House was a big kid who wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. Deny him what he wanted and he would throw a fit or lie and connive to get it. How was that an adult, responsible person? How could a person like that ever be in a stable relationship?

He was once. That ended with his leg.

Cuddy had always felt bad about House and Stacy's break up. It was sad. Just when he needed someone so much he pulled away. They crumbled like a sand castle in a rising tide. It was terrible to watch. Each time House came in for physical therapy Stacy was with him. Cuddy had seen the silences between them grow longer like shadows in the setting sun. Finally night stole the shadows and they were gone just as Stacy was. She no longer accompanied House to the hospital. Later Cuddy heard from Wilson that their five-year relationship had ended. House had moved into his own apartment and Stacy had moved on.

None of that is my fault.

But Cuddy couldn't get away from the thought that maybe House had been right. Maybe he would have regained the use of his leg? He was right so often why not about his own body? Was he the way he was because of her suggesting the removal of the dead muscle to Stacy? His leg had molded him. It made him distant, hard and unable to connect. He had to be in the depths of hell to ask for help. Why was that? Why couldn't he trust?

Why should he?

Again Cuddy was blaming herself. She was certain down to her bones the surgery had saved his life. He may never admit it. He probably harbored resentment toward her no matter how long ago and buried within him. He certainly wouldn't thank her.

Nor do I deserve it.

She knew what had happened when he awoke to be missing part of his leg. He was in shock. He was angry, betrayed and vulnerable. Cuddy had never felt more sorry for any one person in her life as she did for him. He had been blindsided as if by a truck. He was horrified. The only thing that could have been worse was if he had awoken to find the limb missing. Cuddy was sure it had run through his mind. What if…?

From that point on House wouldn't take a sleeping pill. He was afraid to close his eyes in the hospital. He blinked through the morphine induced haze he was in. He wouldn't sleep around Stacy no matter how tired he was. He only slept when Wilson was there. He trusted Wilson. He did not trust Cuddy. He blamed her with bitter words and hate filled looks. Cuddy couldn't bear to be in his room. She stopped for a while. The next time she entered his room he called her a coward. He was right. She stayed away.

_Is that why he doesn't want to see me now? Is he remembering then?_

Cuddy looked at her clock. She sighed. The meeting was in another ten minutes. She finished her coffee and took the cup into her bathroom. She rinsed it out, brushed her teeth and fluffed her hair and reapplied lipstick. There. She was the competent young female head of the hospital again. No sign of her inner struggle with House on her face. The one place she couldn't remove it from was her heart.

Wilson took the table away from House's bed. He had done pretty well with his lunch. House had managed to finish half of the sandwich, some of the fries and like most kids he ate the cookies and drank most of the soda.

"You tired?" Wilson asked quietly.

"A bit. Leg is hurting. How freaking unfair is that?"

"It's not fair at all," Wilson said sympathetically.

"Wouldn't happen to have a bottle of Vicodin in your pocket would you?" House asked closing his eyes.

"Nope. But I can get you some Darvocet or ibuprofen," Wilson offered.

House nodded. "Maybe a heating pad?"

Wilson smiled a little. "You got it. Back soon." He left the room.

House began to fall asleep and then his eyes flew open. He looked about the room.

Calm down House. Nothing is going to happen to you.

He knew it was stupid and he felt ridicules but he couldn't help it. It was like telling a kid not to be afraid of the dark. You couldn't just say it. You had to prove there was nothing there or else get a night light. That was what House waited for, his night light that went by the name of James Wilson. When Wilson returned it would be all right.

Can you be any more irrational? This isn't the same as before. You have nothing to be afraid of! God if Dad could see you now you wuss.

House thought about his father. He wondered what John House would have said if he had known his only son was afraid to close his eyes in the big scary hospital without Wilson being there. Maybe he would be sympathetic. House doubted it very much. His Dad thought House should have been grateful he didn't die and grabbed life around the throat. Mom had been sympathetic. She understood what he'd been through. She was solidly in his camp. Mom was the one who called him after the operation and asked if she should come out. He had said 'no' of course. He had so much bitterness and anger he didn't want to get any of it on her. That wouldn't have been fair to the one person who loved him unequivocally. Plus he had a lot to work out on his own, forever on his own.

A nurse stopped just outside his door. She was chatting with another nurse. House didn't care. He ignored them until 'Nurse A' said to 'Nurse B', "That isn't what Dr. Cuddy's memo said. We're to inventory before and after."

Cuddy.

House tried to throw her out of the room that was his mind. She had no place in there. She hadn't knocked. She had intruded and she needed to pick up her bag and go.

Scat! Be gone! Go bother some other poor invalid.

House wished Wilson would hurry back. He didn't want to be left alone with only thoughts of Cuddy for company. That was the last thing he wanted. Well that and maybe a huge cramp in his leg. That would suck.

He closed his eyes trying to will the specter of Cuddy to leave his mind. Funny thing though, the more you don't want to think of something the harder it is to dismiss it. Cuddy had taken up residence. She had moved in the sofa and was sitting prettily upon it.

Terrific.

Since she wouldn't leave House decided to have a few words with her.

Look I didn't ask you to be here. I have enough problems right now without a middle aged hormonal, iron panty-wearing administrator checking to see if her prized 'pig' is okay. Yes your body is welcome and the less you put on it the better, but your temporary brand of caring can be left in the can you got it from. I don't need it. If I want sympathy and caring I'll call my Mommy. At least she won't take it back when I feel all better. I'm not a kitten to be stroked, fed and cleaned up after until the novelty wears off. I know you're plate is full. I'm the dessert you will pick at and then shove away for fear you'll like the taste and not be able to stop yourself. I'm fattening and your butt is big enough.

House wished Wilson would hurry. He didn't like being left alone with his thoughts. It was almost as bad as being in the same room with Cuddy herself.

When Wilson returned he found House trying not to sleep. His eyes kept closing and then opening again.

Wilson understood. He knew House had trouble sleeping in the hospital unless he was unconscious and had no choice. But when he opened his eyes again it was always with his stomach clenched. Wilson understood as only a best friend could, without judgment. It was the one irrational fear House had that was very much based in reality. It was not unreasonable for someone who fell off a horse to be afraid to get near it again. In this case House didn't fall off. He was pushed.

"Got your heating pad and the Darvocet." Wilson plugged the pad in. It was one of the better kinds that used water. Wet heat was always better on sore muscles. He straightened up and poured House some water. He handed him a little cup with two pills.

"Careful. Don't choke," he said hand him the water.

"Yes mommy," House replied taking the pills and carefully washing them down with a sip of water. He opened his mouth and moved his tongue from side to side. "See all gone," he said like an eight year old.

Wilson smirked.

House snorted, "You see me eat a sandwich and fries and you're worried about two caplets?"

"Just watching out for you," Wilson said with a shrug. "Would you prefer I get Chase?"

"No no! He'd try to hug me again and the place is already talking about us."

Wilson frowned. "I thought everyone was talking about us."

"Well I don't know how to tell you this Jimmy. I'm partial to blonds," House said tilting his head. He was pleased he could do it.

"Blonds huh? Since when?"

House looked Wilson straight in the eye. "Ever since Cuddy walked in here," he said seriously.

Wilson let out a breath through his nose.

"I kind of thought so," he said placing the now warm heating pad on House's right thigh. "You ready to get some sleep?"

House nodded. "You staying?"

"Sure if you want me to," Wilson answered softly.

House nodded again. He wouldn't ask Wilson to stay. He simply asked if Wilson was planning to. He knew he wasn't fooling Wilson. If he had turned around and headed for the door House would have thought of some excuse to make him stay. House had his pride but he was also afraid of the monsters in the dark figuratively speaking.

Wilson settled himself in one of the chairs in the room. House leaned his head back on the pillows and closed his eyes. Wilson watched House until he was asleep. He settled himself more comfortably. He recalled how after his liver surgery, a surgery House had not approved of, he had stayed by Wilson's side. He was there in the observation room while the surgery took place and he was there in the room when Wilson opened his eyes. He visited often and sat with Wilson telling him the goings on at PPTH.

Dynamite wouldn't have gotten Wilson out of the chair next to House's bed. Wilson closed his eyes as soon as he heard House's deep steady breathing.

Cuddy had just finished with the donors. She had been right; they had wanted a wing named after a Great-Uncle who had been a doctor. They had settled for a plaque outside the chapel. The Uncle had been a religious man. Everyone was smiling when they left, the couple because they had honored Great-Uncle Whozit and Cuddy because she was seeing the back of them moving through the lobby toward the doors.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. That had only taken an hour and a half of her time. She sat down at her desk again and looked at her schedule on her computer. She had nothing until three. Good. She was feeling hungry again. She glanced at her desk. Where was that apple she had bought earlier in the day? She recalled sitting with Chase. She must have left it on the table. Damn.

Cuddy toyed with the idea of going to the cafeteria and buying another. She would be in and out quickly. Besides it looked good for the Dean of Medicine to be seen walking through the hospital. It kept everyone on their toes.

She put some money in a pocket of her tight fitting skirt and left her office. She walked through the lobby and to the elevators. The door opened and she entered wondering why. She rode to the second floor and got out. She told herself that she would just walk down the hall. Nothing more. She stopped here and there greeting one employee and then another all the time working closer and closer to one office in particular. She didn't stop. She walked casually past barely moving her eyes.

Chase noticed. He smiled slightly and returned to a magazine he was looking at.

"Wasn't that Dr. Cuddy?" Taub asked.

"Yup," Chase answered without looking up.

"I wonder where she's going?" Taub asked casually.

Chase grinned. "I'm sure she's got a destination in mind."

"Oh," Taub said. "Oh!"

"Yup," Chase said again turning a page.

Cuddy walked over to Wilson's office. She knocked softly and opened the door.

Of course he isn't here. Where did you think he'd be?

Cuddy walked back to the elevators. She waited for the car to arrive. She started to step in greeting a doctor who asked where she was going.

"Cafeteria," she answered.

"Wrong elevator," he said. "This car is going up."

She looked a little surprised but got in anyway. "Then I'll go up and say 'hi' to a few people before I go there."

The doors closed and the elevator ascended.

When the elevator reached the fourth floor Cuddy was alone. For a moment she thought of pushing the button for the first floor. Instead she got out. She went to the nurse's station causing them to move about with purpose. She smiled and talked for a few minutes. She mentioned the cafeteria and how she was just going for a walk to stretch her legs after meetings and paperwork. She said 'goodbye' and started down the hall again away from the elevators. She found herself in front of room four-fifty-two. Cuddy carefully looked in at an angle that kept the occupant from seeing her. She relaxed and stepped quietly into the room. She smiled to herself.

There on the bed House was sleeping comfortably. In a chair by the bed a little less comfortably James Wilson was doing the same.


	12. Chapter 12

I did research for this story on Google. It was the best material available to me. I'm not a doctor. This is a work of dramatized fiction. It isn't real. It shouldn't be taken by anyone as the proper course of action medically. It's my story, so there.

The Queen of Hearts  
Part 12

House didn't like it. He really didn't like it. Would anyone? Did the patients? He had never really considered it before, being pushed through the hospital in a wheelchair. Was everyone looking?

Sure they were. Of course they were. Not the other patients or their families but the staff was staring.

'There he is. It's Dr. House. He's such an ass.' 'Did you hear what he did to Dr. Chambers? Of course Chambers had it coming to him. He's nearly as big a jerk as House.'

Wilson pushed the chair through the halls. House kept his eyes down to the floor trying that old children's trick of 'if I can't see you, you can't see me'. Yeah, it never worked when he was a kid either. Dad always found him.

Wilson glared at a nurse who was snickering to her friend. House's recovery was going to be difficult enough without that crap. Wilson knew House would have a hard time in therapy. What he didn't need was to do it in the spotlight of glaring colleagues. Wilson felt conspicuous himself just being with House.

They were passing the office of the Dean of Medicine. Wilson glanced over. Dr. Lisa Cuddy was sitting at her desk. As if she had been nudged Cuddy raised her head just as they were passing her door. How did she do that? How did she know just the right time to see House as they passed? Wilson decided she had been looking up every few minutes since she knew the therapy session was this morning. Wilson glanced down at House. His best friend did not raise his head as they went by.

Cuddy sighed. She had hoped to catch House's eye. She wanted to give him an encouraging smile. She wanted to show her support. She wanted to tear out of that office and give him a big hug.

House wouldn't want that. It wasn't something he would have been comfortable with. He would have burned her with his sarcastic wit. He would have stiffened in the chair to the best of his ability. He would have hated it. So she stayed put and shifted the papers she hadn't really looked at for the past hour.

The phone rang. It was Lucas just calling to see how she and Rachel were. Did they need anything? Would she mind if he came over for a little while or would she like to go to dinner?

Cuddy admitted to herself that she had been lonely since he moved out. It had been nice having someone to come home to. She appreciated the way he looked after Rachel while she took a shower or just needed a break when Rachel was fussy. Lucas was good with kids something House would never be.

House. She was thinking of him going to therapy and trying to walk. Just like after the infarction except this time he had a hand that couldn't hold a cane. Why did bad things always happen to him? What had he done in a previous life that all the bad karma in perdition fell on him? Yes he brought a lot of his misfortune on himself. But, no matter what he did in this life to annoy Cuddy and the hospital board, he did it advocating for his patients. Sure he told patients the brutal truth but was that to be condemned? Wasn't truth preferable to lies? She guessed that depended on the sharp edge honed on that truth. How deeply did it cut?

She hadn't been listening to the person on the opposite end of the phone. Lucas asked her again about dinner.

How about tonight he says? No, tonight wasn't good she answers. Would tomorrow be better for her he inquires? No, she had a meeting she replies. He asks about Thursday? Maybe, but she has to check her calendar. He says he could cook her dinner. Did she like the Valentine's Day meal? It was very nice but he had forgotten she was a vegan she reminds him. Oh that's right. He says sorry. Then he gets cute. She was still and always would be his 'Queen of Hearts'.

Cuddy felt terrible. Lucas was so good. He was so right. He was so wrong. What was she going to do?

Her other line rang. Thank God.

She apologizes and says she has to go. He should call her tomorrow and she would give him an answer on dinner. He says he hopes it would be a yes. She tries to put a smile in her voice as she says goodbye.

Her other call was Brenda. Cuddy was needed in the clinic. She was a doctor short with House unable to do his shift. Cuddy said she would be right there. She didn't mind clinic duty. It was the only time she got to be a real doctor any more. That muscle needed the exercise, as House would never fail to point out. House, why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

_I don't love him and he certainly doesn't love me. We're friends. We're more like colleagues really. I'm his boss. He has value to the hospital I run. It's only natural for me to be concerned for him._

Cuddy got up from her desk and put on her lab coat.

_It takes more than a tall, brilliant, good-looking man with deep blue eyes to make my breath catch in my chest, for God's sake. _

Cuddy left her office brushing her hair off her neck as she walked to the clinic.

Wilson opened the door and wheeled House into the therapy room. He gave the door a gentle push to close it. It didn't close fully. He ignored it. Now that they had arrived House finally looked up.

_Hello honey. I'm home again. God I hate this room._

House looked around. He wouldn't be trying to walk yet. He wanted to get the use of his right arm back as soon as possible. He would need it to support himself while trying to get his leg to obey him. He hoped it wasn't as stubborn as he was. One really should be on good terms with their body. House's body was being maddeningly unhelpful. It was definitely a drawback to such things as say, walking or limping and writing on his whiteboard, although he wasn't doing too badly with his left hand. Personal hygiene had been a challenge not that he minded having that cute nurse give him a sponge bath. He wasn't as enthusiastic with the nurse who covered when 'cutie' wasn't on shift. You really can't always get what you want.

Wilson was speaking with the therapist. House tried to ignore the fact that they were talking about him. Not the easiest thing in the world. Again he thought about his patients. Did this bug them as much as it bugged him? He had to believe it did. House always explained what happened to them. It was interesting. Patients should be able to appreciate the process. They should _want _to know when House found a really cool answer to their medical issues. Illnesses might mask themselves. They might try to hide but House would eventually find them. Preferably before the patient did something extreme, like dying. All in all House's record was very good. He saved way more patients than he lost. Doctors lose patients. It happened. And it really pissed House off. You burn gray cells trying to find the answer to a medical who-done-it and once you get it solved sometimes the victim ends up in the morgue. That was never a satisfactory outcome.

House concentrated on his right hand. He really wanted to move it before starting therapy. Why, he didn't know. Maybe he just wanted to show he was trying. The session would have more meaning if he could do something. Also it would make him feel like this wasn't a waste of time. _That_ was a negative thought. Why was he thinking that? Why was he assuming this was going to fail? He physically shook his head as if he were trying to shed the idea through his ears much as a dog shakes off water. House flexed his hand a small bit and felt pleased. Maybe all he wanted to do was show off. That seemed likely. That he could go with. 'See what I can do, so there. '

He thought he would give his arm a try. Why not? He had just made a minuscule leap for House kind.

House tried as hard as he could. He concentrated. Then he tried not thinking about moving his arm. He pretended his nose itched and he was holding a red mug full of scalding hot coffee in his left hand.

_Scratch your nose. It really is itchy, incredibly itchy. You're about to sneeze. Cover your mouth. _

Did he move it? He thought he did or was he deluding himself. House didn't do that. He never lied to himself. If anything he was keen to point out his limitations. I'm a cripple. I was hallucinating. I'm not happy. I need help. I can be wrong. I'm a jerk.

_To thine own self be truthful._

The therapist looked close to House's age with very short gray hair. Her body looked like she used the gym five days a week. She had to be five foot seven or so. She wore green scrubs and sketchers. She wasn't well endowed. That was good. House wanted to focus on the therapy and not on her boobs. He would steal a glance of course. He was a guy after all and they would have to work closely together for a period of who knows how long. At least she wasn't a troll like the nurse who came in occasionally to give him his sponge bath. Yuck! All sponge bath nurses should be young and pretty. Cuddy should make it a rule.

House noticed her eyes were palest blue and her teeth were unnaturally white. He was good at noticing things. He was bad at taking orders.

Wilson was still talking to her. What they had to discuss this long House had no idea. It wasn't as if Wilson had to go fishing for dates. He had Sam. House didn't approve but at least Sam was easy on the eyes. House had to admit that.

_She's really not bad looking for a harpy who will rip his heart out and eat it. She lacks the class of women like Cuddy though._

He had done it again. He had let his mind drift unbidden to Cuddy. He could see her fully in his mind. He saw her face, her hair, and her body. He could even smell her. Talk about a distraction. How hard was he thinking about her?

Chase came in to cover for House so Cuddy handed off her patient and left the clinic. She went for a stroll. She needed to work a kink out of her back. She must have bent the wrong way while examining that kid.

_Lisa you're not twenty anymore. Oh shut up. I work out. Yes but you're in your forties. Once again, shut up!_

Her casual stroll took her to the physical therapy department. She ambled aimlessly in the hall and stopped by the door but didn't enter. She wanted to casually walk into the room but she didn't think she could pull it off.

_I was just walking by therapy and thought I would stop by to make sure the new whirlpool was delivered. Oh, House! I didn't know you were scheduled for physical therapy now. How are you?_

God that was transparent not to mention lame. She hung around outside the door that wasn't fully closed. She peeked through the crack and listened hard.

_What the hell am I doing? _

She could hear Wilson talking. He wasn't talking to House so there must be someone else in the room. It had to be one of the therapists. It was probably Shirley. She had the most experience and enough backbone to deal with House. Cuddy wished her luck.

Wilson finished his conversation. He walked back to House.

"This is Shirley," Wilson said gesturing with his hand. "She does taekwondo for exercise so behave yourself."

House looked at Shirley who smiled but looked like she was about to demonstrate a move.

"Bully," House whispered to Wilson. "I'm hardly in a position to cause trouble am I?"

Wilson smiled. "Your most dangerous weapon is your mouth."

"That's what she said," House smirked.

"See? There's my point. Just try to be less you," Wilson said and then thought about it again. "Actually try to be more you but channel those efforts into actions rather than words."

House pouted. "Why is it everyone tells you what to do when you're least likely to offer an effective defense?"

Wilson placed his hand on his hip. "Call it revenge. No one here can offer an effectual mental defense from you and your brand of insanity. We might be able to fend you off for a while but eventually you exhaust us," he said.

"I am told I have amazing stamina," House said proudly.

"Yeah well we aren't talking about the women on your payroll right now," Wilson replied sarcastically.

"Ouch. Kick the crippled invalid while he is lacking in all hope and self esteem," House said wincing.

Wilson kept smiling. "Yes you are pathetic and an easy mark. You'd better do everything Shirley tells you. Then I'll only be able to kick your cane out from under you."

"What ever happened to 'nice' Dr. Wilson?" House asked.

"He was killed. It was a bloody death. He was sent to hell ruled by a medical devil."

"I thought you people didn't believe in hell," House replied.

"I didn't until New Orleans," Wilson said, a tired expression on his face.

"Mardis Gras. It can bring out the worst in all of us," House said with mock sympathy to Wilson's vices.

Wilson raised an eyebrow, "Except the convention wasn't during Mardis Gras."

"Well you were drinking like it was", House replied with a derisive snort.

Wilson narrowed his eyes. "You're trying to have an argument aren't you?"

"More of a debate," House answered looking innocent.

"I'm not playing. It's time for you to do your homework."

"Aw, Mom," House whined.

"Sorry. Off to work young man," Wilson answered pushing the wheelchair further into the room.

Cuddy was smiling. She had heard all of the exchange between House and Wilson. It was typical of them. Wilson wasn't treating House any differently and House wasn't behaving any differently. That was good. Cuddy could take a lesson there. House didn't want special treatment. He wanted status quo. He wanted to be grounded. It made sense. His world was uncertain. He needed something that wasn't.

She drew away from the door and left as quietly as possible here perfume lingering in the air. It wouldn't do for her to be caught. She walked away musing to herself. House was doing very well. She believed he wasn't being stoic for Wilson's benefit. House fully expected to improve, even get back everything he lost. Cuddy hoped so.

She had been concerned House was afraid he wouldn't move the right side of his body again. Considering how House took the near loss of his leg she expected him to be scared. But there he was doing that same old give and take with Wilson. Cuddy had hope.

_I need to be just the same with him. I need to show him nothing has changed and I don't see him as any less of the man he is._

She walked back to her office. She had so much to do. Her focus hadn't been on work. What a surprise.

She entered still considering House's situation. She wondered how he would do his first day in therapy. Her thoughts were full of House as she sat behind her desk. She looked at a pile of files. Most of the charts that reached her desk were the ones with complaints. Those needed to be reviewed by her. If she couldn't resolve things then they moved on to the hospital's attorney. These were the patients or their families who were unhappy about their treatment or their doctor. This also meant that most of the files were House's.

Cuddy looked at the top file. She opened it and read Foreman's writing. House never charted so thank goodness Foreman did. She looked over the letter from the mother of the patient. Dr. House was rude. Dr. House was dismissive. Dr. House didn't come by as often as they believed he should. Wasn't he the doctor in charge of their case?

_Never mind he saved the girl's life. There was no pleasing some people._

There it was again. She was defending House. But really he hadn't done anything wrong. Not for House. She read through the letter and decided there was no liability for the hospital. A note of apology would probably suffice. She considered taking a couple hundred dollars off the bill but it wouldn't go back into the patient's pocket. Insurance would cover all but their deductible. No, a letter was sufficient. She would type it up and have House sign it as usual. House never read these things. He was into the routine now. He got to say what he wanted and all it cost him was his signature at the bottom of a letter Cuddy had written.

He had refused the first twenty times she had brought him these letters. He told her it was her damn apology and she should sign it herself. She had. But as she discovered via angry phone calls the patients wanted the apology from House himself. So she had Chase sign them for House. But her conscience bothered her. That plus Chase was caught by House who was a little unpleasant about the ruse. So Cuddy reached a compromise. She took away some of House's weekly clinic hours if only he would sign the letters she wrote. He quickly saw the advantage in this practice and Cuddy's life became a little easier. Win win.

She put a sticky note on the front of the file, 'House apology letter.' She moved on to the next. It was another of House's patients. She sighed and opened the file.

_I wonder how he's doing._

House wanted to show Shirley that he was in charge of his therapy. That plan went out the window the minute he tried to assert himself. She wasn't having any of that. Funny it usually worked. He would be stubborn and ignore what he was told and eventually everything would work out in his favor. Maybe he just needed to be more tenacious. His will was surely greater than hers. Wasn't it?

_Yeah that served me so well at Mayfield._

Maybe he would try things her way. You never know. It just might work.

Shirley moved his arm and hand repeatedly. He complained. House was bored but it was necessary until he could do the movements himself. He _had_ made a little progress with the arm. House knew that repetitive motion was needed. It was like learning to play the piano. You needed to learn finger placement, notes and scales before you could go on to playing music. It was piano lessons all over again. Boring.

Wilson watched for a while before he left to attend to his own patients. He promised to be back at the end of the session to roll House to lunch in the cafeteria. That was good. House was sick of his room and wanted to go home. However there was a bit of a problem with bathroom usage. He had to be able to get from bed to bath. He had no problem doing his duty but the transportation was if-ee. It would be good to be wearing his own clothes because he didn't care much for the hospital gowns. No style, not that it was important to him but he really preferred his jeans. Maybe he could wrangle a set of scrubs.

Shirley worked with him for an hour on his hand and arm. She assured him that he would be doing these moves himself soon. House hoped she wasn't fibbing to him. That wouldn't be nice.

"I'll work the muscle manually for a while and then we'll use the wheel," she said.

_The wheel? Sounds like a medieval torture device._

"What's 'the wheel'," House asked apprehensively. "Does it hurt?" He was nearly child-like when he asked. Pain was never something House looked for actively. He was no masochist. He did things to help him cope with his leg pain. He had once broken his fingers and he had cut himself while going through painful detox. But he did those things to distract himself from pain. Use pain to escape pain. Weren't endorphins wonderful? He deliberately wasn't counting the times he had done experiments on himself. Those were to answer questions. Not at all the same thing. Was it?

"No it won't hurt. It's like a bicycle. You 'pedal' with your left hand and you try to do the same with your right. It keeps the arm moving and reminds the muscles of what they are supposed to do. You'll do fine," she added.

"Pedaling a bicycle with my left hand and the right one comes along for the ride. That's going to help?" House asked skeptically.

"You have to keep the arm moving Dr. House. I can't do all the movements for you. The muscles need to be active", Shirley said patiently.

"Okay. Wheel me over to the wheel", he replied resigned to his fate.

"Let's try something else first. I want you to stand on your own", she answered approaching him.

_You've got to be kidding!_

"That seems a little ambitious for the first day don't you think?" House answered concerned. "With one crippled paralyzed leg?"

"Well we'll work together. Right now I just want you to stand and later we'll work on taking a few steps", Shirley said smiling encouragingly.

"A very few steps. Does none count?" House asked raising his eyebrows.

"No, none doesn't count," she said, as she made sure the wheels of the chair were locked.

She raised the footrests. "Okay. I'm going to steady you." Shirley took his right arm clasping one hand around his toned bicep and one around his forearm. "Push with your left leg and stand up."

_Oh this won't be good._

House placed his left foot firmly on the floor. He put his left hand on the arm of the wheelchair. He would push himself up and try to put as little pressure on his right leg as he could. This was not a foolproof plan.

"You know about my leg, right"? House asked seriously.

"I know Dr. House," she answered quietly. "You can do this. I'll count to three."

House braced himself. "Count slow", he said quietly.

She held him tight. "One, two, three push!"

He pushed himself part way up and she helped him lift out of the chair. She steadied him as he stood with all of his weight on his left leg. Shirley slowly let go. House stood on his own. Shirley stood close in case he lost his balance.

"Your right foot is flat on the floor. I want you to try to put a little weight on it. I'll be here for you", she said taking hold of him again.

"I weigh more than you do. If I lose my balance I'll pull you down with me", House said doubtfully.

"No you won't. I've worked with patients bigger than you and haven't ass-planted yet."

House smiled slightly. He liked the term ass-planted. He started to like Shirley. That made it easier for him to trust her. He needed to trust her. Trust was important to him and he had been disappointed a few times in his life when it really counted. His Dad had disappointed him. He had trusted his father to love him. A parent wasn't supposed to abuse his child. A lover wasn't supposed to make a medical decision counter to your wishes while you slept. But these things happened and House knew he had to get beyond them. And he was making progress. He was putting the past behind him. He was changing.

He closed his eyes and physically moved his hip a bit. He took some weight off his left leg and hoped it was being proportioned to the right. He also hoped he wouldn't fall.

Shirley was smiling. "See? You did it".

"Just don't ask me to dance," he huffed through clenched teeth. "My leg hurts." He winced and his eyes watered.

"I know", she said sympathetically. "But you've made progress already".

_Not exactly a big step forward, so to speak._

Shirley looked him in the eye. It was as if she were reading his mind. "This is going to take hard work and determination. It isn't going to happen overnight".

House wasn't so sure. His stomach tightened.

"What if it never happens?" He asked softly.

Shirley looked at him. "Then you'll learn compensation techniques", she said sincerely.

House wasn't cheered by that thought. And his leg hurt. He reached down and rubbed it with his left hand.

"Can I sit down now?" He came close to begging.

"Yes", she answered and helped him lower himself back into the chair.

House knew logically it was early in his rehab. He had only been at it a little over an hour and he shouldn't expect too much. But emotionally he was disappointed. He tried to dismiss the feeling. It wasn't reasonable and he was all about reason. He prided himself on it. He thought about Wilson hearing the news that House had stood. 'That's great! I knew you would were too obstinate to take this crap.'

Cuddy would bubble over with encouraging words and smiles. 'You stood by yourself? That's wonderful! You'll be walking soon.'

_Yeah, right._

"You'll be spending some time on the bike today", Shirley said as if it were an afterthought.

This didn't thrill House. "I assume it will be the same as 'the wheel', my left leg doing all the work and my right just moving with the motion?" He looked up at her his eyes narrowed. "Did I mention my leg hurts?"

"Yes you did. Would you rather be confined to that wheelchair for the rest of your life?" She asked in such a way it made him think of his mother. 'Finish your broccoli. Do you want your father to see you didn't? Clean your room. Do you want your father to come in and see this mess?'

_No Mom I do not._

"It's electric. I'll set it to automatic. Your right foot will be in the straps on the pedal. What is important is the repetitious movement of your right leg", Shirley said in that motherly tone. The woman had to have the patience of Mother Teresa.

House didn't like the answer. He still had to move the right leg and the remaining thigh muscle would get a work out. Yes it was necessary but he really didn't feel like it. House the petulant child was surfacing. He pouted again.

_I don't want to._

Shirley shook her head. "That won't work on me," she said. "You forget I deal with children of all ages."

House gave her a defeated look. "Did I mention my leg hurts?"

"Several times", she answered wearily.

"Just so you know", he said with a slight shrug. He knew he couldn't keep playing the 'leg hurts' card. There were only four in a pack.

"Dr. House today you're going to move that right leg", she said in a way to indicate the discussion was over.

Why did I give up Vicodin? Oh yeah, because I saw dead people and hallucinated sex with Cuddy. That was it. At least the sex was good. I think.

He sighed out his nose and nodded once. "Give me a couple of ibuprofen and let's do this."

Shirley wheeled him over to the bike.

"We'll work the leg first and then your arm", she said

"Oh goody", House answered sarcastically.

"Want to do this without the ibuprofen?" She asked him.

"I'll be good mommy", House yelped.

"That's better. Now let's get you up on this thing", Shirley said smiling.

House rolled his eyes upward. "This maybe the first time I won't be able to get 'up'. If you know what I mean." He winked at her.

"That's not what I heard," Shirley smirked locking the wheels again.

She shot him down! House was now certain. He liked Shirley. He liked her a lot. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. He was going to do his therapy as she directed. She knew what she was doing and he put himself in her hands. He trusted her. That was a big leap of faith for him. His leg and arm weren't the only things getting exercise today and this was good. If only Dr. Nolan could see him now.

Cuddy was on the sixth file on her desk. This one wasn't House's. It was Dr. Chambers. God what an ass he was! He acted cocky and was sure he was always right. He insulted the nurses and was dismissive of the other doctors. Sounded familiar.

He had none of House's talent. Chambers was a good doctor but not a great one. Cuddy resolved to have another talk with him and to wave a pink slip under his nose. She knew Chambers would run to H.R. but it was her hospital damn it and she decided who stays and who goes. Chambers was on his way out the door. She would defend House's behavior because he was such an asset to the hospital. Chambers was not.

_I wonder how House's therapy is going?_

She was thinking of him again. No. She had work to do. She needed to get House out of her head. He had taken up residence there moving in his luggage and piano. Cuddy squared her shoulders and picked up the next file. George Rivers, attending physician Dr. Gregory House. Damn.

Would she ever get House out of her head? It was nearly impossible with him working in the hospital. It was _more_ difficult with him being a patient who was in a very tenuous situation. She felt so sorry for him. He was a strong man forced to undergo a debilitating condition. She wanted to be close to him and help him any way she could.

_I care about him._

She knew House would balk. He would tell her he wasn't an injured puppy. He wasn't a small child who needed to be cuddled when he got a boo boo. House was suspicious of people who liked him. He didn't trust they weren't feeling sorry for the poor cripple. House couldn't believe people would like him. Who could like a guy like House?

Wilson did.

So did Cuddy.

_In spite of everything I like him. It isn't love. It's like. _

She closed her eyes for a moment. Her mind filled with the memory of a dream. She was in her short black nightie lying in bed and a strong man with blue eyes was lying beside her. His chest and arms were bare. She was breathing slow and deep her eyes locked on his. He could take her at any moment and she would be able to do nothing about it. He reached toward her and laid one perfect rose between her breasts. She reached up and gently stroked his face. She traced her finger over his lips softly. He kissed it. He caressed her hair. He was gentle with her. She looked at his face her eyes locked on his. His hand moved down her face and touched her cheek. He leaned over and kissed her softly. He moved his lips down to her throat and kissed her again. Cuddy closed her eyes. He continued down her throat to her right shoulder. He moved slowly. He kissed downward and then toward the center of her body. His lips reached her sternum and he kept moving down. Cuddy's breath caught in her chest. He reached the rose and kissed it lightly. He carefully removed it brushing it against her left breast as he did so. He set it on the bed beside her and laid his hand on her left hip. He looked into her eyes with such meaning. Then he moved his hand up to her shoulder. House leaned in and kissed her deeply.

Cuddy came out of her reverie. Her eyes opened. They glistened with tears.

_I don't like the son-of-a-bitch. _

A single tear slipped down her cheek.

_I love him._


End file.
